


Spirits born from the not happened yet

by kawuli



Series: We thought we lost you (Welcome back) [7]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen, Post-Canon, feelings about babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kawuli/pseuds/kawuli
Summary: Ten years after the war, and everything's fine. No really. It's just that Alima is having a baby, and Rokia has feelings about babies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is 24k long. No, I don't know why. But I was looking over "stuff I wrote in 2017" and figured I might as well post this over here...

It’s a long ride back to the Village, but today Rokia’s glad she’s on her bike rather than the train. On a bike nobody can see her face.

It was a shock to hear, sitting around Heidi’s table and watching Alima’s face flush, shy and pleased, when she told them.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, eyes on the mug of tea her hands were wrapped around. She glanced up, at Rokia and then at Heidi, and Heidi smiled and took Alima’s hand while Rokia was still trying to process the words.

“The doctor says I’m about 8 weeks,” Alima continued, looking at Heidi, “and that everything’s fine.”

Rokia managed to unfreeze then, took a deep breath and reached for Alima’s other hand.  Alima looked happy, so Rokia smiled, squeezed her hand. “That’s amazing,” she said.

“Congratulations,” Heidi added, and stood up to wrap Alima in a hug before Rokia could figure out what to say next. 

Rokia sipped at her tea while the two of them talked about doctor visits and what to do for morning sickness and what to eat and a thousand things Rokia never knew about how to prepare for a baby. 

When Alima left, Heidi looked over at Rokia, standing on the other side of the door. “You okay, babygirl?” she asked.

Rokia shrugged. “Can’t believe she’s having a baby, seems like she just _was_ a baby.”

Hedid laughed, ruffled her hair, and went to take the mugs to the kitchen.

 

Rokia left, after that, because…because she didn’t fit. Because she doesn’t have anything to say about pregnancy, really, her mom’s solution for morning sickness had been morphling and staying in bed till noon. She’d found out Mom was pregnant with Allie when she’d complained that the food she was saving for supper had disappeared and Mom snapped that she needed it for the baby. She hadn’t found out about Kadi till Mom started to show, hadn’t wanted to believe it until it was undeniable. Hadn’t done anything to prepare for either of them beyond working as many hours as she could, keeping money hidden at the shop, hoping whatever happened she’d be able to figure something out. 

So she’s glad nobody can see her riding up the highway, remembering the sick sense of dread that had come with knowing what it’d mean when Kadi was born, the tentative hope before Allie that maybe with a baby Mom would… be nicer, take care of things. Find them a better place to live. Grandma always said Rokia’s what brought Mom back to them the first time, so maybe a new baby would—Rokia wasn’t dumb enough to think they’d move back north, but something. 

With Allie, Mom probably did try. Didn’t change much, but she’d at least lie on the couch with the baby, nurse Allie when she cried, stayed home more often for all the good that did. By the time Kadi came, well. Mom had been disappearing more and more often anyway, was meaner and less lucid when she was home, and when Kadi was born early and small and fussy, Mom couldn’t handle it. Handed the baby to Rokia when she came home one evening, and disappeared for a week. And if Rokia had to choose between going through the Arena again or repeating those first few weeks with Kadi, she wouldn’t blink before picking the Arena. She couldn’t put Kadi down or the baby would howl. She cried at bright lights, or movement, or noise, or because she was hungry, or because she’d just eaten, or—Rokia doesn’t even know. And then Allie would cry because nobody was paying attention to her, or because she was hungry, or because she wanted to sleep and Kadi was keeping her awake. And formula was expensive, so Rokia had to get her hours in at work, even if she spent the whole time with Kadi wrapped tight against her back, cloth pulled up over her head so the shop lights wouldn’t hurt her eyes. 

In the end she couldn’t manage on her own. Sara’d organized something, with Matt’s little sister and Seydou’s wife and some others Rokia doesn’t remember, so she could work uninterrupted for a bit, curl up on the couch in the office and  sleep for a few hours. 

Riding up the highway, years and districts between now and then, she thinks Sara probably paid the others, at least something, at least some of them. Wonders what shit she got for that at home, when her parents were expecting that money and it didn’t come.

She almost misses the turnoff for the Victors Village, too caught up in thought, has to brake hard and turn sharp, leaning and trying not to skid. That pulls her attention back, while she climbs the switchbacks up into the hills.

She pulls into the garage and notices Kadi’s scooter is there. Of course, it’s late enough she’ll be back from school.

And sure enough, when Rokia pushes open the door she hears music from the radio and smells something cooking. Kadi’s in the kitchen, stirring at something and holding a sheaf of papers in her other hand.

Kadi’s scowling in concentration, doesn’t notice Rokia, so Rokia takes a minute to look at her and wonder how on earth this woman, her brilliant mind and her brilliant grin and the mischevious streak Beetee pretends to complain about, how all of that could possibly have come from the infant Rokia could hold in one twelve-year-old arm.

And then Kadi looks up and sees her, and laughs. “Don’t worry, I promise I’m still watching the food.”

“This time,” Rokia says, pointedly, but Kadi’s smile is contagious. “I had to toss that pan on the scrap pile, you know.”

Kadi looks sheepish. “I thought it’d only take a minute to change the scooter battery!” she says, “And then I got distracted.”

Rokia shakes her head, walks over to look at what’s in the pot. “It happens,” she says. “I think if I really was mad about it Lyme would start laughing all the way over at her house without knowing why.”

“See and I brought my homework in here this time,” Kadi says. “Problem solved.”

Rokia takes the spoon, stirs the peanut sauce and then tastes it. “I think this is done, girlen, did you make rice?”

Kadi points to the opposite counter. “Beetee says this is much more efficient. He loaned me one to try.”

“Do you really need a special gadget just to make rice?” Rokia sighs, walking over. “It’s not like it’s that hard to do in a regular pan.”

“Yeah, but that one you _can_ actually forget about and it won’t burn,” Kadi says.

Rokia cocks her head to the side, looking at the thing. “Now that’s an argument Beetee didn’t think to make,” she says. “He just talks about how it’s more efficient and supposedly tastes better.”

Kadi’s tasting the sauce. “I can’t get it like Mai’s,” she says. Ever since spending last summer with Matt and Mai in Six she’s been trying to copy Mai’s recipes. To varying degrees of success.

Rokia takes the spoon, tastes it again and shrugs. “It tastes fine to me,” she says.

Kadi sighs. “It’s just that Mai doesn’t _measure_ anything, she just told me a dash of this, a handful of the other, it’s very imprecise and difficult to replicate.”

“You could take Eibhlin’s lab scale with you next time you visit, ask Mai to weigh everything before she puts it in.”

“See, I know you’re making fun of me, but it’s not a bad idea,” Kadi counters.

Rokia starts taking down plates. “Come on,” she says, “let’s eat.”

 

After dinner Kadi has homework, so Rokia goes down to the basement shop. It’s extravagant to have full sets of tools here as well as down at the hangar, but Rokia loves it. She checks her messages first, on her datapad in the corner. For once there’s nothing urgent, just the usual maintenance requests. Which means she can work on her own projects, so she sorts through blueprints until she finds what she’s looking for, and starts digging through bins for the right hardware.

Kadi comes down a couple hours later, looking irritated.

“What’s up, Kadi?” Rokia asks, setting down her tools.

“Oh, nothing,” Kadi says, sighing, “I don’t like differential equations, but Beetee says that just because _most_ differential equations aren’t analytically solvable doesn’t mean _all_ of them aren’t, and I can’t do everything numerically just because I’m a better coder than I am a mathematician.”

It’s still startling when Kadi comes out with things Rokia doesn’t really understand. “I can’t help you there, kiddo,” she says. “Beetee gave up on me and math a long time ago.”

“I don’t mind when it’s _useful_ ,” Kadi says, scowling. “Anyway, I’m done with it and I wanna do something that actually makes _sense_ so I quit feeling stupid.”

Rokia bristles. “You’re not stupid,” she snaps. “Is Beetee making you feel bad? I’ll—“

“Rokia,” Kadi snaps. “I don’t want my big sister yelling at my teachers. That’s just weird.”

“Sorry,” Rokia says, looking away and taking a deep breath. She looks around. “Okay, well I’m working on a model loading arm, you’re good with linkages and hydraulics, right?”

Kadi brightens, pushes over to the worktable. “It’s so cute!” she says. “Oh man it’s tiny!”

“Well, I don’t want to make the 500 pound one until I’ve got the mechanisms right,” Rokia says, relaxing as Kadi manipulates the half-assembled arm.

Kadi looks fromt the blueprints to the model, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she concentrates. “I think you’d get better torque if you moved this—“ she starts. “Lemme get my datapad.”

She clatters up the stairs, comes back down. “Okay, send me the file.”

 

It’s not till Kadi starts yawning that Rokia checks the time. “Oh, shit, Kadi, it’s after two, when do you have class tomorrow?”

Kadi sets down her datapad, the wireframe still spinning slowly in the air above it. “Oh, right. Not till 10, but I should go to bed, huh?”

“Yeah,” Rokia says, “This’ll be here tomorrow.”

They shut everything down, and Rokia follows Kadi up the stairs. “Goodnight,” Kadi calls, as she ducks into her room. “Love you!”

“You too,” Rokia says, “Goodnight.”

She takes a long shower, hot water loosening knotted muscles from riding and working. She’s never going to stop being grateful for unlimited hot water. Cold showers for herself were bad enough, but babies were worse and as soon as the girls got old enough to really fight back they flat out refused. Which meant finding an old metal drum in a vacant lot, cutting and patching it with scrap from Sal’s, and heating water on the stove, when they had a stove that worked. Which meant if she was busy they’d get wiped down with a wet washcloth and whine about it, or go to school dirty.

Rokia shakes her head, turns off the water, and pulls on sweatpants and a T-shirt, climbs into bed. Sara’s not back till next week. It’s fine, of course it is, just…Rokia wishes she’d thought to try calling while it was still reasonable hours. Now she tries not to think about the bed as too empty.

 

She wakes up in a panic, out of a dream she hasn’t had in years, the one where she’s lost the girls, where they’re tiny and she sets them down, walks away and forgets about them, and it’s beautiful and quiet and clear until she remembers, races back, and they’re gone. She races through the streets of Six looking for them, but they’re nowhere to be found, and then she wakes up, heart pounding and sick with fear and guilt.

And then _realizes_ it was a dream. She’s sitting bolt upright in her bed in Two, Allie is grown up and married and Kadi is in the next room, and Rokia gets up, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and tiptoeing down the hall. She tries to give Kadi her privacy, her room is _hers_ and nobody should go in unless she wants them to—but she has to check. She pushes the door open just a crack, so she can see, and Kadi’s there, curled on her side with her back to the door, her chest rising and falling as she breathes.

Rokia watches until her heartbeat finally slows down from spinning panic back towards something more normal, and then she closes the door, steps away, and turns to lean against the wall.

She should probably talk to Lyme. Waking up from panic nightmares is the kind of thing you call your mentor about.

But this isn’t about… this is about Six, and family, and Lyme hates babies, and it’s embarrasing and stupid that something that makes Allie so happy is sending Rokia spiraling into bad memories and bad dreams. Her sister is happy about the baby, Heidi will help her with anything she can, as will Allie’s husband, they’ve got money and good steady jobs that’ll give Allie paid time off because Panem now supports parents. There’s no reason for… any of this. She’s just going to go back to bed and…

She gets as far as her room. The clock reads 5:45, just getting light outside. Fine. Rokia drops the blanket on her bed, pulls on running clothes and heads outside. It’s cold, this early, but that’s okay. The air smells like pine and cedar and rotting leaves under the shade, and she picks a steep trail on purpose so she has to work so hard she can’t think. Makes it all the way up to the ridge before she has to stop, lean against a tree to catch her breath and stretch her aching calves. The sun’s coming up, bathing everything in golden light, and she looks out down the foothills and out towards the plains stretching towards Ten. Beautiful, and her home. By some amazing trick of luck, her home.

She turns around and heads back.

 

Kadi comes down a little after nine, sleepy and blinking in the light. “Please tell me there’s coffee,” she says, passing Rokia on her way to the kitchen. Rokia sets down her datapad and gets up.

“Sure thing,” she says, “And there’s pancakes in the oven to stay warm.”

Kadi pours coffee, opens the oven door to look. “Excellent,” she says, sipping at her coffee and looking around for a hot pad.

Rokia beats her to it. “Sit, I’ll bring you some,” Rokia says, pulls out the food and puts some on a plate for Kadi, some for herself. She drops Kadi’s plate in front of her and goes to get herself a fresh cup of coffee.

“Why are you so awake?” Kadi grumbles. “You should not be this productive this early.”

Rokia laughs. “I made pancakes and coffee, I’m not doing differential equations.”

Kadi groans. “Don’t even joke about that,” she says.

Coffee and food help, though, and by the time Kadi’s cleaned her plate she looks less like the sun is a personal affront. She heads upstairs while Rokia picks up the dishes, rushes back down and out to the garage with a hasty “Bye!” and she’s gone.

Rokia shakes her head, collects her own things, and heads down to the hangar.

 

She gets home late, and when she walks in the door Kadi jumps up from her spot on the couch. “You didn’t tell me!” she says, excited more than accusing. Rokia looks at her, confused. “Alima called earlier and told me about the baby, why didn’t you say something?”

Oh. Right, shit, she should’ve maybe mentioned that. Although… “I wanted Allie to get to tell you herself,” she says, bends down to pull off her shoes. “More fun that way.”

Kadi’s beaming. “They’re gonna have such cute kids,” she says. “Do you think it’ll be a boy or a girl?”

The excitement is almost contagious; Rokia finds herself smiling as she walks through toward the kitchen. “No way to know,” Rokia says absently, trying to think what food she could make for supper.

“You didn’t eat yet?” Kadi asks, “I figured you’d get something at the station, sorry, I was hungry so I heated up leftovers.” She sounds nervous.

Rokia blinks and takes a deep breath. Closes the cupboard and turns to smile at Kadi. “It’s okay, Kadi,” she says, “I just got busy and forgot.”

Kadi looks pacified, goes to the fridge. “There’s still rice and sauce left,” she says. “Mai’s recipe is for the whole family, I forgot to make it smaller for just us.”

She hands Rokia the container. “Thanks,” Rokia says, “and hey, leftovers are good anyway. Less work that way.”

That washes away the rest of the nervousness, and Kadi perches on the edge of the counter while Rokia warms up her food. “How was class?” Rokia asks, partly because she’s curious but partly because she just wants Kadi to fill up the quiet.

Kadi sighs. “It was fine, mostly, we had electronics labs and control systems and those were fun.”

“But?”

“But I still hate math class.” Kadi sighs.

“Do you have to take it?” Rokia asks. “Seems kinda unnecessary.”

“I wanna be _good_ , though,” Kadi says. “I shouldn’t just quit because it’s hard. Besides, if Mason gets to be top of the class I’ll have to smack him upside the head four times a day for being a smug jerk.”

Rokia can’t help smiling. “You could ask Beetee for help,” she suggests. Silence, and Rokia can almost hear the scowl. “Or Eibhlin.”

“Eibhlin?”

“I mean, probably,” Rokia says. “I know fuckall about that kinda math but she’d be the one to ask.”

“She’s not gonna make fun of me for thinking it’s hard?”

Rokia pulls the pot off the stove, sets it on a hot pad on the counter. “Nah,” Rokia says. “Anyway you helped us figure out the guidance for those rockets last month, it’s a fair trade.”

Kadi chews on her lip, while Rokia eats. “Do you mind walking over with me?” she asks. “Eibhlin’s a little intimidating.”

Rokia smiles at that. “Sure,” she says. “But Eib’s not so bad, really.”

Kadi looks slightly skeptical. Rokia takes a few more bites, sets the spoon down. “You wanna go over now?” she asks.

Kadi glances at the clock. “Nine thirty’s not too late?”

Rokia shakes her head. “Nah, c’mon, it’ll be fine.”

Kadi’s trying not to fidget while they walk over, tugs a little at her jacket sleeves, adjusts her grip on the textbook she’s brought. Rokia knocks, and they wait.

Eibhlin opens the door, which is good. Rokia gets the feeling Kadi doesn’t want Beetee to know she’s struggling.

“Hi Eibhlin,” Rokia says, “You got a minute?”

Eibhlin looks at her watch. “I actually have 17 minutes until the silver halides are ready to deposit.”

“What?” Rokia asks.

“We’re attempting to replicate early photographic methods.”

“Why?” Kadi bursts out.

Eibhlin looks at her. “Well clearly, chemical reactions to light are interesting in and of themselves, but I am also curious whether they could be adapted for other photochemical applications. They’re very similar to photovoltaics for power generation really, it’s fascinating—“

“Eibhlin,” Rokia cuts in, before the lecture picks up enough steam to overpower them. “Kadi wants your help with her math class.”

Eibhlin pauses. Looks between the two of them, seems to notice they’re still standing outside. “Come in,” she says, shaking her head. “What type of math is it?”

Kadi waits till she’s pulled off her shoes and stood back up to answer. “Differential equations,” she says, looking shifty. She hands Eibhlin the book. “I’m fine with numerical methods, but… the professor is from Three and he and Beetee insist we have to learn all these analytical tricks.”

Eibhlin’s flipped open the book to Kadi’s bookmark. She turns, silently, and walks into the living room to perch on the edge of a chair, never looking up from the book in her hands. Kadi looks at Rokia, who shrugs and follows Eibhlin. They sit on the couch and wait. Eibhlin looks up eventually and nods. “I’m glad to see the polytechnic is beginning to aim for more rigorous mathematics education,” she says. “This is rather advanced.”

Rokia glances at Kadi, who looks relieved. “Everybody at school just wants to know it well enough to not fail,” she says. “I want to actually _understand,_ and I don’t.”

Eibhlin actually looks…approving. Almost impressed. “Well, I suppose tonight it will be too late once I’ve finished with the silver compounds, but we can start tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Kadi nods. “That’d be great!”

“Excellent,” Eibhlin says. She glances at the spine of the book, wanders toward the bookshelf, scanning carefully. “Ah, here it is.” She pulls a book down. “An earlier edition, of course, but math hasn’t advanced _that_ fast.”

She holds Kadi’s book out towards her, and Kadi gets up to take it. Rokia follows her, and they head towards the door. “See you tomorrow,” Kadi says. “And thanks.”

Eibhlin nods. “You’re welcome,” she says, opening the door for them. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Kadi.”

 

Rokia waits till they get a little ways up the road before she says “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Kadi tries to glare, but she’s not very convincing. “Yeah, yeah,” she says, “Come on, I don’t want to be up till all hours again, I have solid mechanics at nine tomorrow.”

 

Rokia says goodnight and watches Kadi head up the stairs. She hesitates, goes into the kitchen, puts away the rest of the leftovers, washes up, looks around. She shouldn’t get started on something now. If Lyme was here, she’d give Rokia a sleeping pill and send her to bed.

But if Kadi has to be at school for a nine o’clock class she’ll leave here by 8:30 and want to eat breakfast at 8, and if Rokia takes the drugs now she’ll be fuzzy and groggy still by then, and that won’t work. She’s tired. Maybe she’ll just sleep. Maybe— she hesitates again, heads down to the basement, bypasses the shop for the workout room. It’s not much compared to basically everyone else’s, but there’s a punching bag and a few weights and a pullup bar, a free space in the middle. Mostly for times like this, when she’s squirrely and restless but doesn’t want to leave the house. She runs through some basic bodyweight exercises, goes back upstairs before climbing stairs starts to feel like climbing a mountain. Takes a long, hot shower and goes to bed.

 

She’s not sure what woke her up this time, but she’s awake before six again, staring up at the ceiling unable to go back to sleep. And pretty soon she’s antsy and restless again so she heads out to run. She’s back, drinking coffee and stretching on the living room floor, when Kadi grumbles her way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“There’s oatmeal on the stove,” Rokia calls, pushes herself up and follows. Kadi’s spooning some into a bowl, adds sugar and raisins and fills a mug with coffee. Rokia pours the rest into a bowl for herself, tops up her own coffee mug and sits with Kadi.

Her sister’s adorable in the mornings, sleepy and slow, but Rokia’d never say that. Doesn’t say much in the mornings as a rule, lets Kadi drink her coffee and eat her breakfast and wake up slowly. Her hair’s getting long, unruly curls falling into her face until she pulls them back, leans on one hand and looks at Rokia. “You are impossible,” she says, finishing the last of her oatmeal. “Nobody should be up that early of their own free will.”

Rokia laughs. “It’s not on purpose,” she says. “I just wake up.”

Kadi looks confused. “I guess,” she grants, reluctantly. She looks up at the clock, sighs, and takes her coffee with her up the stairs.

Rokia follows her up, takes a fast shower and pulls on work clothes. Kadi comes down just after she does, and they head out together.

 

The call comes in around six, and Rokia almost ignores it because they’re trying to finish up a complicated wing repair before the others leave for the night. But it’s Kadi, so she steps away. “What’s up, babygirl?” she asks, trying not to worry.

“Hi Rokia,” Kadi sounds fine, which helps. “Just letting you know Eibhlin and I got to talking about rocket guidance and so I still have some some homework to finish and I’m staying here for supper.”

Rokia smiles. It still startles her when Kadi calls about that kind of thing, but Heidi and Marc taught the girls to be considerate. “That’s fine, kiddo, I’m finishing some things down here anyway. See you later?”

“Yep! I shouldn’t be super late.”

They say their goodbyes and Rokia goes back to the job. They all want to finish, but as usual everything takes longer than it should. So by the time Rokia’s checking everything over and stepping away, it’s already eight. Blake wipes his forehead with his sleeve and leaves grimy traces across his face. “Remind me of this next time I agree to stay ‘just till we finish this,’” he says, half-joking.

Rokia smiles ruefully. “Come in late tomorrow if you want,” she says. “I owe you guys.”

They all look grateful, nods and shrugs all around as they head out. Rokia wants to make sure the welds are cooling properly, so she pulls out her datapad and catches up on maintenance logs for another hour. When everything looks good she heads home.

She’s just finishing the leftovers she hadn’t finished last night when Kadi comes in. “In here!” she calls, dropping the pan into the sink and running water. Kadi laughs when she gets in and sees Rokia.

“You look like you had a long day,” she says.

Rokia looks down. She’s got grease and machine oil pretty well spattered everywhere, so it’s a good bet it’s on her face, too. “Guess so,” she says, shrugging. “How’d it go with Eibhlin?”

Kadi grins. “She’s really fun! I was complaining about how I didn’t _need_ all this math and she pulled out some book on aerodynamics and we got to talking about the rocket guidance and why we can’t stabilize it and then Beetee said it was time for supper and we realized we hadn’t actually done the stuff we were supposed to do.”

Rokia smiles. “That sounds like fun,” she says, going to dry her hands on a dishtowel and thinking better of it. She shakes water off as best she can and leans against the counter.

“Yeah, and she’s good at explaining stuff, even if she does usually have to try a couple times before it stops sailing over my head.”

Rokia laughs. “She’s gotten better at that,” she says.

“And Beetee says if I get an A in differential equations he’ll help us build a proper guided missile so we can send stuff to Phillips by rocket-mail.” Kadi grins. “He says you and Eihblin never got farther than down the district.”

“Hey,” Rokia says, amused and a little indignant. “He never helped us, and he told us we’d get in trouble if it went any further.”

Kadi looks shifty. “I may have figured out how to register Poly with Air Defense as a scientific institution conducting tests,” she says, “And skip most of the approvals. I think Beetee only agreed to help so he can make sure we don’t accidentally bomb District 10.”

“But only if you get an A.”

“Yeah, well, and he said if I get lower than a C he’d delete the registraton and make sure their security was up to par so I couldn’t go back in and switch it.”

Rokia sighs. “I didn’t know you were learning how to hack databases.”

“Well…” Kadi giggles. “Mason wanted to impress me.”

And of all the dubiously legal things, that’s the one that’s making her blush and look embarrassed. Rokia files _that_ as relevant data, and shakes her head. “Well, I guess you’d better study then,” she settles for.

Kadi’s smile is brilliant. “Well, now Eibhlin and I _both_ have more motivation,” she says. “So I’m sure I can do it.”

Rokia pushes away from the counter. “Well, is there anything in that guidance stuff a mere mechanic could understand?” she asks.

Kadi glares at her. “Well, I don’t know, but I’m sure _you_ could understand most of it.” She reaches for her bag and pulls out her datapad. “Quit perching and hovering like some kinda bird and sit.”

Kadi’s confidence aside, a lot of it is over Rokia’s head. It’s no wonder they couldn’t ever get the things to work properly before. But Kadi’s scribbling on scrap paper and waving her hands in the air and talking a mile a minute, so Rokia tries to follow the basic thread and enjoys her sister’s excitement instead of worrying about the details.

Eventually, though, it gets to be a little overwhelming. Rokia checks the time. “Hey kiddo, it’s getting late,” she says, when she can get a word in edgewise. “Can’t do math if you don’t sleep, right?”

Kadi sighs. “Okay, I guess,” she says. She starts clearing the papers off the table, stacks them to one side, and stands up. She’s smiling and excited and brilliant, and Rokia can’t help hugging her. Kadi hooks her chin over Rokia’s shoulder and holds on tight. “I like being able to talk about stuff with you,” she says, as Rokia starts to pull back. “Ma and Dad and Allie didn’t get it.”

“Yeah,” Rokia says, “It’s nice to have people who understand.”

Kadi nods, and they head up the stairs together.

 

Another almost-forgotten dream: District Thirteen, sirens and short clipped orders and silent chaos, following the technicians through the tunnels—and a baby’s cry, _Kadi_ crying off somewhere, racing through the corridors trying to find her, and suddenly she’s above ground, and Kadi’s sitting in a field, missiles falling through the sky like hailstones and she’s too slow, the bombs fall and explode into—rose petals, and Snow’s voice, warm and friendly, “Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you didn’t cooperate?”

Rokia wakes up sobbing and gagging on the smell of roses. And there’s a voice, small and scared. “Rokia, are you okay?”

Kadi’s standing in the doorway, wide-eyed. Rokia stares at her stupidly, sucking in deep breaths until her head stops spinning quite so fast. “C’mere baby,” she says, her voice scraped raw and harsh. Kadi doesn’t hesitate, crosses the room and climbs into bed beside Rokia.

Kadi’s the taller of the two of them, now, but she curls up small, her head against Rokia’s chest as Rokia lays back down and looks up at the ceiling. “Your heart’s beating really fast,” Kadi mumbles, half-asleep again already. “It must’ve been a really scary dream.”

“Yeah,” Rokia says, trying to take deep breaths. “I thought I’d lost you.”

Kadi curls closer, flings an arm around Rokia’s waist and holds tight. “I’m not letting you,” Kadi says. “I’m staying right here.”

Rokia rubs Kadi’s back until her sister’s breathing evens out and the tension in her shoulders goes slack. Fuck. Now she’s scaring her sister, isn’t that fantastic. And she can’t go anywhere, Kadi will wake up, or if she sleeps through that she’ll wake up later, alone in the bed, and be scared all over again.

Rokia has nightamares about losing her girls. Kadi has nightmares about being left alone. And whose fault is that, Rokia thinks bitterly, swallowing hard. She _did_ leave them, close enough to alone, and she still couldn’t take care of them when they came, had to send them away again and she knows it was the best thing for them _and_ for her, she does, but it doesn’t do much to lessen the sense of failure. They were her responsibility, and she failed.

Finally she can’t stay still. She shifts a little, and Kadi whines. “It’s okay baby, I’m just going downstairs,” Rokia says. “I promise.”

Kadi shifts, reluctantly, so Rokia can slip out. “Sleep, girlen,” she says, kissing Kadi’s head. “I won’t leave the house.”

She doesn’t, just goes down to the basement, wraps her hands and attacks the punching bag. She leaves the door to the stairs open, so the noise will filter up and let Kadi know she’s down here. She works until her arms ache and her knuckles bruise even under the cloth, stops when the alarm she set goes off to remind her to make sure Kadi’s awake in time for class.

Kadi’s own alarm starts going off as Rokia climbs the stairs, and by the time she’s turned it off and gone into her own room Kadi’s rolled over, looking around in confusion. Rokia’s sweaty and gross but she goes and sits on the edge of the bed anyway. Kadi wraps both arms around her waist and puts her head in Rokia’s lap.

“Hey, kiddo,” Rokia says, working her fingers into Kadi’s hair and detangling a bit. “Time to get up.”

“I wanna stay here with you,” Kadi mumbles. “Right here.”

Rokia chuckles. “Okay, but if you get up there’ll be coffee, and I’ll put chocolate chips in your oatmeal. _And_ peanut butter.”

“Hmmm,” Kadi says. “That is a rather convincing argument.” She squeezes once, hard, then lets go and rolls up to sit.

Rokia stands up. “I’ll go make coffee and breakfast, meet you downstairs.”

Kadi nods, rubs at her eyes, while Rokia heads down.

Kadi hugs her again when she comes into the kitchen, even before heading for the coffee pot. “I’m sorry for scaring you, Kadi,” Rokia says, breaking her own ‘wait until after coffee to talk about things’ rule.

Kadi takes a sip of coffee, comes over to peek over Rokia’s shoulder into the oatmeal. “It’s okay,” she says, “Anyway it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

Rokia snorts. “No, definitely not.”

“Okay then,” Kadi says, and holds out her bowl.

“Oatmeal, peanut butter, and chocolate chips,” Rokia says, as she puts them in. “As promised.”

Kadi gives her a small smile and goes to sit.

Rokia sits, too. Kadi looks at her oatmeal and frowns. “You don’t have chocolate chips,” she says, accusing. “You gotta have chocolate chips.”

Rokia shakes her head, but she gets up and grabs the bag. Shakes a few out. “That’s better,” Kadi says. Rokia laughs a little, and that gets Kadi to smile too, and everything finally feels a little more like normal.

Kadi deposits her bowl in the sink and heads upstairs, Rokia washes up, waits until Kadi clatters back down the stairs and almost bowls Rokia over in another enthusiastic hug.

Rokia waits till she leaves, shakes her head and goes up to get ready.

 

Kadi comes by the shop after school, which isn’t surprising really, especially given the morning. She’s been working in a lab at school instead of the shop this year, and Rokia misses having her around most afternoons.

She’s still got old coveralls in the back, though, and a bright green bandana to pull her hair back, and she’s still the best at fixing faulty electronics. When the guys leave at six Kadi scowls at the clock. “I’m not done,” she says. “Can we finish this before we go?”

Rokia laughs. “Of course, kiddo, whatever you wanna do is fine.”

Kadi grins down from her perch on the scaffolding and ducks back into the access panel.

Rokia’s re-tapping a stripped hole on the lathe when she feels Kadi come up behind her. Kadi waits, watching, while Rokia finishes, then sighs. “You’re so good at stuff like that,” she says, “My shop teacher says I rush too much, I think I’ve broken 3 taps this year.”

Rokia pulls the piece out and blows the last chips clear. “Well, I’ve had a lot of practice,” she says. Leaves it at that.

“I finished the wiring,” Kadi says, “and I’m hungry.”

“Okay,” Rokia says, “Let’s head home.”

 

When they get to the house, there are lights on inside, and when they walk in it smells like food. And Rokia is somehow not very surprised to see Lyme sitting in her chair in the living room reading something.

Lyme looks up as they come in. “Hi girls,” she says, “I made dinner.”

Kadi makes a beeline for the kitchen, and Lyme gives Rokia a very flat look. Doesn’t say anything though, just heads for the kitchen and starts pulling down plates. Kadi’s getting things out of the oven, roasted meat and vegetables, all in one pot that sets Rokia’s mouth watering, a loaf of bread wrapped in a dishtowel to warm.

Rokia glares at Lyme. This is cheating, coming over here with fancy food to remind Rokia she hasn’t been eating enough. Never mind how the hell she knows, when Rokia hadn’t even really noticed until her stomach notices the smell and informs her that breakfast was a very long time ago. “This smells amazing,” Kadi says, sitting down.

“It’s Friday night,” Lyme says, and Rokia tries not to show that she’d forgotten about days of the week again. “And you’ve been working hard.” There’s nothing in her tone that says it’s anything other than that simple, but she glances at Rokia again and oh yeah, she’s in trouble.

But not at the dinner table, and, Rokia very much hopes, not in front of Kadi. “How’s school, Kadi?” Lyme asks, “Beetee giving you trouble?”

Lyme laughs at the rocket mail deal, otherwise listens to Kadi with the bemused expression she tends to get from most people.

And then, as they’re picking up dishes, the house phone rings and Kadi runs to pick it up. “Hi Uncle Brutus,” she says, and Rokia glances at Lyme. Who’s not saying anything, not even with facial expression. “Yeah, sure!” she says, “I’ll be right over!”

And there is seriously no _way_ that’s coincidence, and is Lyme sending smoke signals to say they’re done with dinner or what?

“Uncle Brutus says he needs a fourth person to play Euchre with Misha and Devon, I’m gonna go over there,” Kadi says, ducking her head into the kitchen.

“Be careful,” Lyme says. “Misha cheats.”

Kadi grins. “I know, but I’ve figured out some of her tricks. And this time I’m demanding short sleeves.”

Lyme smiles. “Good luck.”

“See you later, Kadi,” Rokia calls.

 

And then the door shuts, and Lyme looks at her. “You got something you wanna tell me?”

Rokia pushes past her and out into the living room, folds herself into a corner of the couch. “Who told you I did?” she asks, annoyed. “This time,” she adds, and rolls her eyes.

Lyme shrugs. “Not important,” she says, sits in her chair, the big armchair Rokia can only sit comfortably in sideways.

Rokia glares at the floor for a bit. It’s stupid, she’s fine, she’s not a fresh out baby Victor to go running for her mentor when she has a bad day. Or night. Or several. Whatever. It’s stupid.

“You rather spar?” Lyme asks, shifting her weight forward.

She’s not supposed to need this either, not with Lyme a foot taller and twice her weight so it’s not anything like…not like anything other than what it is, Lyme smacking Rokia’s brain into place. But it sure as shit beats talking, so fine. She stands up and walks toward the back door without saying anything, and Lyme follows.

Rokia stops once they’re out onto the level part of the yard, spins to face Lyme and doesn’t even get all the way turned around before she’s on the ground, not even quite sure how she got there. She scrambles up, growling, and kicks at Lyme’s knees, cheap shot and mean, but Lyme doesn’t care. Ends up on her back again, and again, and again, and then she hits the ground hard, air shocked out of her lungs, and almost as soon as she can breathe again, she’s laughing. Back up, and Lyme raises an eyebrow at the half-hysterical giggles but doesn’t say anything, just keeps going, lets Rokia get a few hits in before knocking her on her ass, and Rokia stops laughing because she has to, because she’s exhausted, because her head’s swimming and her arms and legs are heavy and sore and her head’s pounding and her breath comes in ragged rasping breaths and finally she’s on her hands and knees, head hanging, gasping for breath. When she tries to stand up her legs give out, and before she can fall Lyme grabs her, hauls Rokia up like a baby and carries her inside.

Rokia would fight that, but that would take energy she doesn’t have. Lyme deposits her on the couch and goes into the kitchen, comes out with a disturbingly colored electrolyte thing and waits till Rokia pushes herself upright to hand her the glass.

It helps a little. She’s not dizzy, by the time she finishes, her eyes manage to focus properly on the first try, and she can look up at Lyme and scowl.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Lyme says, rolling her eyes and taking the glass. She comes back with it, full of water this time, and Rokia drinks that even faster, then has to take deep breaths against the nausea.

Lyme sits down next to her, and Rokia leans her head against Lyme’s shoulder. Lyme puts an arm around her and Rokia snuggles close. She’s perilously close to sleep. “Allie’s having a baby,” she mumbles, drowsy. “Why would anyone have a baby on purpose?” She shudders, curls tighter against Lyme. “How come she gets to choose?”

Lyme doesn’t say anything, but her arm tightens around Rokia. Who’s crying now, apparently.

“Shhh, babygirl, you’re safe, it’s okay,” Lyme says, rubbing Rokia’s back in slow, gentle circles. Rokia’s with it enough to realize that doesn’t have anything to do with her questions, but not with it enough to care, just closes her eyes and waits for the tears to stop. She doesn’t remember falling asleep.

 

She wakes up when the door opens and Kadi comes in. Tries to sit up but Lyme hushes her, lays her down on the couch and stands up to meet Kadi by the door. They talk in quiet voices, and then Rokia hears Kadi’s footsteps heading upstairs. Lyme comes back and Rokia shifts so her head is in Lyme’s lap again. “What’d you tell her?” she mumbles.

“That I’m going to stay overnight, and maybe she wants to go visit Marc and Heidi for the weekend.”

“Don’t kick her out,” Rokia says, but she can’t put any weight behind it. “She can stay if she wants.”

“Sure she can, kiddo,” Lyme says, “but she wants to go see Alima, too.”

“Don’t tell Allie,” Rokia says, and there’s more to that sentence but she’s too tired to come up with it.

“Of course not,” Lyme says, and Rokia feels her shift. “Come on kiddo, there’s a perfectly good bed upstairs, no reason to sleep on the couch.”

Rokia whines, but she sits up, lets Lyme pull her up to stand. She’s not going to make Lyme carry her to bed, but she does lean against her all the way up the stairs and into her bedroom. She crawls in far enough to leave space for Lyme.

Lyme hesitates, then sighs and climbs in.

If Rokia dreams, it’s fragments and snatches, and every time Lyme brings her out of them carefully, fingers in Rokia’s hair, a hand on her back, and Rokia goes back to sleep.

Finally she wakes up because Kadi’s moving around. Lyme’s awake, lying on her back, and she looks over at Rokia with a rueful smile. “Been a while,” she says.

Rokia shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes and lets out a long breath. “I’m fine, it’s just—“

“Rokia.” Lyme’s voice is flat, and she doesn’t need to say anything else.

Rokia sighs, sits up. “Wait till Kadi’s off,” she says. “I should go get her some breakfast and make sure she knows everything’s okay.”

Lyme sighs, nods, and they get up. Lyme waits in the living room while Rokia heads for the kitchen.

“Hey there, kiddo,” Rokia says, and Kadi looks up quick, startled.

“Rokia!” she says, coming over for a hug—and then she hesitates. “Are you— what’s wrong?”

Rokia steps up and hugs her, first, then sighs as she steps back. “It’s complicated,” she says. “But I’ll be alright.”

Kadi goes to the stove and dumps more oatmeal and water into the pot. “Lyme wants oatmeal, right?”

“Yes, Lyme would love some oatmeal,” Lyme calls. “Thanks.”

Kadi giggles and goes back to stirring. “I’ll be back tomorrow night,” she says, a little hesitant, “if that’s okay? I have class Monday morning and it’s annoying to take the train all the way up that early.”

“That’s fine, Kadi,” Rokia says. “Whatever works best for you, really.”

Kadi looks up at her, serious for once, and then nods. “Tomorrow night then. I’ll leave there after dinner.”

Rokia sighs. “Could you— not tell Alima I was upset?” she asks, hesitant. “I don’t want her to feel bad.”

Kadi looks back down at the pot. “Yeah,” she says. “I won’t say anything.” She stirs for a bit, then looks up again. “It’s ‘cause of me, isn’t it. You don’t like babies because I was so hard to take care of?”

Rokia’s breath catches. “No, baby, it’s not your fault,” she says. She hears Lyme get up, come in. “It was hard, yeah, but that’s because I was a kid, and Mom wasn’t around.”

Kadi looks at her, glances up at Lyme, chews on her lip for a bit, then nods and goes back to stirring. Lyme puts a hand on Rokia’s shoulder, turns her toward the table. “I think that’s ready, Kadi,” Lyme says.

They bring bowls of oatmeal and cups of cofee and Kadi brings all the things you could conceivably put in oatmeal, from chocolate chips and peanut butter to brown sugar and honey and dried fruit. Rokia has to smile while they load up their bowls.

“I’m sorry,” Kadi blurts out after a bit. Rokia looks up, startled. “I guess—I didn’t really think about it, you were just…there.”

“Until I wasn’t,” Rokia says, leaden.

“Well, but that’s different. You made sure we had someplace to go.”

“Of course I did, you’re my sisters.”

“Yeah, but not ‘of course,’ because Mom didn’t.”

Rokia freezes. “Yeah, see?” Kadi continues, shrugging and looking down. “She just assumed you’d take care of us, or else she didn’t give a shit.”

“Okay,” Lyme says, breaking what’s stretched into an uncomfortable silence. “Kadi, I think we’d better wait till you get back to keep going down this particular road.”

Kadi nods, finishes her oatmeal quietly. “I won’t tell Allie,” she says, when she finishes.

Rokia forces herself to take a deep breath. “Thanks,” she says. “And Kadi?” she pauses. “I love you. None of this is your fault.” Kadi looks away. Rokia reaches out, brushes her cheek. “I promise, babygirl,” she says, and Kadi looks at her for a long moment and then takes her own deep, shaky breath and nods.

She pushes her chair back, stands up. “Say hi to everybody for me,” Rokia says. That gets the ghost of a smile.

“I will,” she says. Pauses at the sink. “I love you, too, Rokia,” she says, serious. Looks like she wants to say something else but thinks better of it, and heads out.

 

Rokia’s frozen in place. Lyme shifts her chair so she can wrap an arm around Rokia’s shoulders, taps the bowl of oatmeal with the other hand. “Eat,” she says. “Step one.”

Rokia does. Finishes mechanically, stands up and collects bowls and cups on autopilot, drops them in the sink and runs water, washes things while Lyme dries. She feels hollow, full of echoing caverns reflecting old memories and Kadi’s words and Allie’s shy pleased smile the other day, and none of it makes sense.

Lyme pulls her over to the couch afterwards. “Rest day,” she says. “You’re exhausted, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

The hint of sarcasm is deserved, Rokia knows, because she _hadn’t_ really noticed until…sometime last night, probably. She notices now. “This used to suck less,” she grumbles, because it feels like every single muscle in her body is complaining at once.

Lyme smiles. “It’s called getting older,” she says. “Turns out you pay back all the stupid shit you thought you got away with, plus interest.”

Rokia winces. “Well damn,” she says, stretching her neck. “But I didn’t even _do_ anything lately, nothing that weird.”

Lyme raises one eyebrow. “Seriously?” she says. “For one thing you were putting in 12-hour workdays, for another I _know_ you were out on the trails more than usual, plus whatever you were getting up to in here, and that’s without reminding you that you’ve been walking around with your shoulders up to your ears since you got back on Tuesday.”

Rokia glowers. “Yeah, and that’s still not that weird, so what the hell?”

Lyme shakes her head. “C’mere,” she says, shifts so that she’s leaning against the arm of the couch and Rokia can lie back against her. Rokia feels Lyme’s knuckles digging into the knots of muscle around her shoulderblades and groans.

“So,” Lyme says, once Rokia’s relaxed more. “You wanna talk to me or you wanna call down to the counselors’ office.”

Rokia sighs. “I hate this,” she says. “Just for the record, there should be a limit to how long this shit can bother you.”

“I know,” Lyme says. “Too bad it doesn’t matter how you think it _should_ work.”

Rokia sighs again, tilts her head up to see Lyme’s face, upside down. Lyme rolls her eyes and flicks Rokia’s forehead once.

Rokia shifts, sits up, looks up at the ceiling. “Allie’s having a baby on purpose,” she says. “It’s not the same as me. And I love my sisters, I wouldn’t want them to not have been born.”

The silence stretches out. “But?” Lyme asks.

“Babies are _so much work_ ,” Rokia says. “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ been that exhausted, and yes I mean including the Arena and the war and everything, I didn’t know how to keep all three of us fed much less anything else, and I wanted Mom to come back and I knew she wasn’t going to and I just didn’t know what to _do._ ”

Lyme sighs. “Of course you didn’t,” she says, “That’d be hard for anyone, much less a little kid.”

“Sara helped,” Rokia says. “And Sal, and Magda even, and Matt, and a bunch of other people. I couldn’t do it by myself.” She pauses. “Well, and once I won it was easier, that part. There was Phillips, and my house, and the stipend and everything.”

“Yeah,” Lyme says, neutral, after another pause.

Rokia sighs. “I just wish I’d had a choice,” she says, finally. “Nobody asked me. I didn’t get to plan for any of it, not that I’d have known what to do, it just happened, and it felt like… like I was on a treadmill going too fast and I couldn’t stop for a _second_ or we’d all fall.”

Rokia shifts to snuggle close against Lyme. “Not that I knew what a treadmill was,” she says. “And I love my sisters, but I didn’t—“

“You weren’t ready,” Lyme says quietly. “Rokia, you were a _kid._ How old were you when Kadi was born?”

“Twelve,” Rokia says. “I remember I’d just got my first tesserae when I found out Mom was pregnant again.”

“So, the same age Alima was when they came here,” Lyme says. “You think she was ready to have kids then?”

“Well, she was taking care of Kadi—“

“You know full well that’s different.”

Rokia grants the point. She thinks about it, remembers Allie as a prickly stubborn kid who probably would have insisted she could handle a baby, but… no, there’s no way.

“Of _course_ you didn’t want that,” Lyme says. “Doesn’t mean you don’t care about your sisters.”

Rokia doesn’t think she actually wants to argue that, so she leans her head back instead, takes deep breaths and tries to relax her shoulders and all the stupid things she knows she should do. “Are you gonna make me talk about this all weekend?” she asks.

Lyme laughs, short and sharp. “Oh fuck no,” she says. “I don’t hate either of us enough for that.”

Rokia grins at her. Then stretches her arms over her head. “Can we hike up to the lake?” she asks. “I haven’t been in a while.”

“Sure,” Lyme says. “I’ll find us some food to take along.”

Rokia groans. “Of course you will,” she says, getting up. Lyme doesn’t say anything, just walks into the kitchen.

 

The stupidest thing is she can watch herself doing all the shit she does, grumbling about food, grumbling about wanting to hike farther, keep moving, how much work she should be doing. Can trace back the week, now that she’s paying attention, the late nights and early mornings and skipped meals and long runs. Can recognize that it’s all stupid and pointless and counterproductive.

And it doesn’t matter. She’s still _doing_ all of it, she’s still coiled up tense and ready to run, still surly and childish to Lyme all day, until by the time Lyme’s standing in front of her with a glass of water and a sleeping pill she’s ready to smack herself upside the head hard enough to make the stupid pill unnecessary.

And yet, here she is, arms crossed, scowling like she’s 22 again and just got here. Only the justification is different. “I shouldn’t need that,” she snaps out. “It’s stupid.”

“Okay,” Lyme says. “But you’re still going to take the damn pill and get a full night’s sleep, because I don’t even want to know what you’ve been doing the last few nights.”

“I’ve been sleeping,” Rokia protests. “Every night!”

“Okay,” Lyme repeats. “You’re still taking it.”

“It’s really not that bad,” she tries. “It’s been way worse before.”

“Uh huh,” Lyme says. “I’m well aware of that.”

“I don’t want to.” Rokia’s last line of defense.

“See, I don’t think that’s true,” Lyme says. “You just don’t want to let yourself.”

“What’s the fucking difference.”

“Rokia, just take the damn pill and go to bed,” Lyme says, not angry, just exasperated.

Rokia sighs, holds out her hands. Takes the pill, drinks the water, hands the glass back to Lyme and walks up the stairs.

Lyme comes up and stands in the doorway while Rokia climbs into bed and curls up facing the wall, and that’s the last thing she notices before she’s out.

 

—

 

The train pulls into the station just before nine on Monday morning. The disadvantage to taking off weeks in Two is the 4 AM departure time from the Capitol to get there. Oh well. Rokia’ll be at the shop, Sara can nap for a while and be ready to see her when she gets home.

Except when she pulls her bike into the garage, Rokia’s is still there.

And when Sara walks into the house, Rokia’s curled up with her head in Lyme’s lap watching some nature documentary, and that is exactly the opposite of a good sign.

Sara drops her duffel, doesn’t bother to take her boots off, just walks over and perches on the opposite arm of the couch. Lyme glances over and gives her a “be careful” kind of look, lets out a long breath.

“Hey, Rokia,” Sara says, quiet.

Rokia looks over, pushes herself up to sit, but stays pressed close against Lyme all the same. She rubs at her eyes. Also a bad sign, means Lyme pulled out the serious drugs to make her sleep, and if they’re still not worn off completely it means she took them late because she put up a fight over it.

It’s been a long time, but Sara remembers the signs.

“Hi,” Rokia says, dully. “Welcome home,” she adds, sarcastic and biting.

Sara slides down to sit on the couch, reaches over and grabs Rokia’s foot, the only thing she can reach, starts rubbing her thumb along the pressure points. “I’m glad to be home,” she says, “what’s up?” She keeps it light, relatively, no point getting drawn into a fight about whether or not Rokia is a burden or stupid or crazy or whatever it’s going to be today.

Rokia sighs. “Allie’s having a baby. On purpose,” she adds, seeing Sara’s confusion, “she’s happy about it, but it fucked me up thinking about.”

Sara glances up at Lyme, who’s as usual unreadable, and back to Rokia. “Well sure,” Sara says, guessing, “I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it, after Kadi.”

Rokia shrugs, looks away. “Wouldn’t have, without you,” she says, low and mumbling. “I dunno, paying for babysitters and stuff, didn’t you get in trouble?”

Sara isn’t particularly thrilled talking about this either. She’d done it out of something like panic, because Rokia was exhausted and gaunt and struggling even with Sal paying her for almost twice the hours she managed to work. “Oh, well,” she says, once she can trust her voice to stay level, “I got yelled at some, but that wasn’t anything new.”

“But—“ Rokia starts to protest.

“Rokia, it’s my money, nobody missed it all that much, and you needed the help. I absolutely forbid you from feeling guilty about it.”

Rokia gives her a flat look. “You didn’t have to help, but you did, and I—“

“Look, you know who I blame for it?” Sara snaps, and she can’t keep the anger out of her voice. “Your fucking mother, okay. They’re her kids, it never should’ve been your responsibility. You were _twelve_. She shoud have been taking care of _you_ , too.”

Rokia blinks, as though the idea is somehow new. “I could take care of _myself_ fine, it was just—“ she stops. Shakes her head. “Lyme keeps reminding me Allie was 12 when they came here,” she says. “It just— didn’t seem that young then.”

Sara sighs, pulls her hands back and rubs them along her thighs. “You were _tiny,_ ” is all she says, but the memory is sharp enough to cut. She looks over at Rokia. Rokia gives her a long, confused, _young_ -seeming look, then pulls away from Lyme, glances up at her and shifts toward Sara.

Sara breathes deeper, pulls Rokia all the way onto her lap and holds her tight. Rokia buries her face in Sara’s shoulder, curls up small. They sit like that, quiet, Sara rubbing Rokia’s back and scratching at her scalp.

“Hey,” she says softly, after a little while. Waits for Rokia to look up at her. “I love you, okay? You’re amazing.”

Rokia looks away, but it’s better than rolling her eyes.

Lyme glances at Sara, gets up and goes into the kitchen. She comes back with muffins and some kind of juice.

Rokia uncurls a little and sighs. “I ate breakfast,” she says, in a much more normal voice than Sara’s heard since she came in. “Before Kadi left.”

“Yep,” Lyme says. “But these are good, and Sara might be hungry too.”

Rokia slides down so she’s sitting next to Sara instead of on top of her, and Sara reaches for the food. Rokia follows, looking resigned.

And then once she’s done eating, she’s restless and fidgety, and Lyme looks at her and says, “C’mon, you,” and Rokia follows her outside.

 

Sara closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths. Well, shit.

It makes sense, in the way that fucked-up things do, that the idea of Allie having a baby would set Rokia off. The memories that brings up aren’t even comfortable for _Sara_ , and it wasn’t her scrambling for the next meal or the next place to leave a baby so she could get some work done or stashing money so her mom couldn’t steal it. Sara, almost three years older, couldn’t fathom how Rokia kept things together as well as she did.

And up till now they really haven’t talked about it, because what’s to say, really? At first Rokia’s guilt about her mom getting killed was tied up in all the rest of what happened in the war, and telling Rokia that it was good fucking riddance and lucky Mata lived even that long was not going to help anything. Telling her how Sara’s whole body had locked tight and vibrating with fury when Rokia casually mentioned her mom had passed out on the couch and forgotten about Allie again, that that’s why Allie was tagging along to the shop—that wasn’t going to help either. Rokia’s anger and frustration with the woman were always shaded over with a wish if not anymore a hope that her mom could change. She’d bailed Mata out from the cops any number of times, tried to get her to eat when she could, made sure rent and bills were paid and Sara couldn’t stand to see all that energy wasted on the woman. When she gave nothing back. When Rokia couldn’t trust her to watch her own kids, when her infant daughter wouldn’t stop crying so she handed the baby to a twelve-year-old girl and walked out the door.

She would’ve shot the woman herself if she thought she could get away with it.

 

When Rokia comes back in she looks a little better, less turned in and faraway. “I’m going to work,” she announces. Lyme raises an eyebrow. “It’s fine, I’ll quit at six when the rest of them leave, I promise. I just need to do something productive.”

Lyme crosses her arms. Rokia stares her down, apparently, because finally Lyme nods. “Okay,” she says. “Eat lunch, come home on time. I’ll check in tonight.” She looks over at Sara. “You keep an eye on her,” she says. “And she goes to bed at a reasonable hour, and if she’s not tired there’s meds for that.”

“I am standing right here,” Rokia says.

“Yeah, but you already know, smartass,” Lyme says. “And yet somehow you still don’t do it.” It sounds harsh, but Lyme’s look is fond.

Rokia rolls her eyes, exaggerated for effect. “Fine,” she says. “Now I have work to do.”

 

Lyme leaves after Rokia does, and Sara calls Claudius.

“I need to punch things,” she says, when he picks up.

He gives a little startled laugh. “Okay,” he says. “I can stop by at noon, unless it’s an emergency.”

It’s not an emergency, not really. But apparently Sara doesn’t answer quickly enough. “Nevermind,” Claudius says, more serious. “I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

Sara meets him on the front porch. He raises one eybrow when he sees her but they walk around to the back without saying anything, and he kicks off his shoes. “C’mon,” he says, and that’s all Sara really needs.

She’ll never be as good as the Twos, but she’s fast, and she doesn’t hesitate to use dirty tricks when she needs to, so every once in a while she can surprise Claudius enough to knock him down. Not often, and she spends a lot more time on her back in the grass than he does, but enough to make it fun.

“So what’s up?” Claudius asks, offering her a hand and hauling her back up to her feet.

Sara shakes her head, and they keep going. He takes her down again, one of her arms twisted up behind her back just to the point of pain. Stays there a little longer than usual before he lets her roll over and hauls her up again. “Her fucking mother,” Sara growls, and there’s something that might have been a flinch on anyone except a Two. He starts up again this time. “Worthless fucking waste of air,” Sara grits out. “Fucking junkie whore bitch.” That doesn’t get a reaction, really, even though she’s so far out of line she can’t even see it from here. She keeps up an itermittent string of profanity until she hits the ground again, rolls to a crouch. A little later: “Wish I’d fucking shot her myself.” She swallows what feels like shards of glass and keeps going.

Finally Claudius lands a hit to her sternum that not only knocks her down but actually knocks the breath out of her, and steps back. “You’re too tired, Sara, I don’t wanna hurt you,” he says, while she’s trying to breathe. She nods. She hates that he’s right, but he’s right. Once she’s back on her feet they go inside, into the kitchen for water. Sara starts making sandwiches, because she can’t tell her girl to eat if she’s not gonna do it herself.

“My mom kicked me out when I was seven,” Claudius says, abrupt in the quiet. “I was on my own for six months until the Centre found out.”

Sara looks at him. “I thought stuff like that didn’t happen in Two,” she says, and immediately wishes she hadn’t. “Sorry.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay,” he says. “There’s shit parents everywhere, though.”

Sara nods, goes back to making food. “Guess so,” she says. Sighs, then asks, “Did you hate her?”

Claudius shrugs. “Sort of. Not exactly.“

“Rokia doesn’t,” Sara says. “I do.”

“It’s complicated.”

Sara laughs, almost a bark. “That much I’ve gathered.”

“She’ll be okay,” Claudius says.

She brings him his sandwich, raises one eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Claudius says. “I am. Lyme’s good at her job. Rokia’s got you.”

Sara sighs. “I don’t think I’m much help.”

Claudius leans across the table to punch her arm. Hard.

“You’re mean,” Sara whines, rubbing at her arm. “Next time I’m gonna go shoot things with Selene instead.”

He just smiles and takes a bite of his sandwich.

 

After Claudius leaves Sara curls up on the couch to take her much delayed nap. When she wakes up, she hears movement, out in the kitchen, so she stretches, pulls her hair out of her face and walks over, fingers still working through tangles.

It's Kadi, sitting at the kitchen table and scowling at something. She looks up when Sara comes in.

“Sara!” she says. “You're back!”

She hops up and Sara makes her way around the table for a hug. “Sure am,” she says. “Got in this morning.”

“That's good,” Kadi says, uncharacteristically serious. “Rokia really missed you this time.”

“Oh yeah?”

Kadi shrugs. “I mean, she's just more relaxed when you're here. She works too much otherwise.” She hesitates. “And last week was… weird, and then Lyme’s been here and Rokia's like… like when we were first here, all…” Kadi trails off, shrugs uncomfortably.

“Hey, c’mere,” Sara says, pulls Kadi into another hug. Kadi rests her head on Sara’s shoulder, relaxes a little against her. She lets Kadi stay close as long as she wants, which ends up being long enough that Kadi looks a little sheepish when she pulls away.

“Sorry,” she says, blinking fast. “It's just weird.”

“Okay, c’mon,” Sara says, heading for the freezer. “Break time for ice cream and telling me all the crazy shit you've got up to in school.”

Kadi smiles a little, grabs spoons out of a drawer and follows Sara to the couch.

It's a ridiculously comfortable couch, and it's huge but they sit close together, and Kadi snuggles up under Sara's arm. “So I'm getting math help from Eibhlin,” she starts.

“Oh boy,” Sara says.

Kadi giggles. “Yeah, she's kinda… a lot?” She shrugs. “But she's really good at this stuff. And she's fun, in her own weird way.”

“Sure,” Sara says, noncommittal.

Kadi goes on. “Well apparently her and Rokia started building rockets but couldn't ever get the guidance good enough because—” she pauses. “Anyway, I want to send stuff to Phillips and I was thinking we could make something that could get to District Six probably, and Beetee says he’ll help if I get an A in my class.”

“Isn't that incredibly illegal?” Sara asks.

Kadi pauses, takes a big spoonful of ice cream and looks up at Sara while she eats it. “So there’s this guy,” she starts, and Sara tries not to laugh. Kadi digs an elbow into her ribs. “Shut up, it's just a… it's not some big thing, he’s just been flirting after class, and I may have said something about wanting to get registered for doing rocket tests, and he _may_ have hacked some government databases for me, and I _may_ be going out with him next weekend sometime.”

Sara bursts out laughing. “Oh, nerd love,” she says, and Kadi pushes off of her to go sit at the other end of the couch and glare. With the ice cream.

“Don't tell Rokia,” Kadi says. “I don't want her getting all weird.” She takes another bite of ice cream. “And if you tell Uncle Brutus I will sneak into your room and shave your head.”

Sara snorts. “Girl, what would I have to talk to Brutus about?” she says. “No worries, secret’s safe with me.”

“Good,” Kadi says, pacified somewhat. She scoots over and proffers the ice cream. “I usually just tell Rokia I'm studying, and I guess since half the time _she’s_ working on Saturday night she doesn't think it's weird.”

Or she’s just decided she doesn't want to know, Sara thinks, but either way it's fine. Kadi can handle herself. Although. “If you ever want, y'know, backup, me and Selene have been known to kick around town on a Saturday night.”

Kadi gives her a scheming look. “Well, I mean Mason’s easy, but I bet you guys would make pretty good wingmen.”

“Oh hell, Kadi, I'm not sure I can handle helping you pick up dudes in bars, I’ve known you since you were _born_.”

“What about picking up girls?” Kadi asks, calculating. “Girls aren't scary, right?”

Sara grabs the ice cream. “Shit, Kadi, your sister would kill me.”

Kadi sighs. “No, she'd just get that confused look and go hide in the shop all night.” She sighs, serious again.

“Mom used to tease me about how I was the worst baby,” Kadi says. “Was I really?”

Sara blows a long breath through her nose, turns so she can look at Kadi. “You were just a baby,” she says. “Does it really matter?”

Kadi just scowls, and okay that one probably wasn't going to work, but worth a try. “I asked somebody,” Sara says, “because you were really little and you cried a lot,” Kadi looks down. “It's because your mom was taking morphling when she was pregnant, honey,” she says, shifting so Kadi can duck under her arm again. “You were going through withdrawal, basically. So everything hurt, everything was too loud and too bright, and you needed someone to help you.”

Kadi curls up, like she's trying to make herself as small as possible. “And Mom didn't fucking care, so Rokia had to deal with me.”

Sara sighs. “I mean, it's not just you, your mom didn't give a shit about anything or anyone except herself.”

“I remember she came to my birthday parties, when we had the house,” Kadi says, hesitant. “I thought if she liked me enough maybe she'd stay. But she always had to leave.”

Sara doesn't have anything to say to that. Kadi sighs, uncoils a little. “Rokia loves you, Kadi,” Sara says, finally. “Always has.”

“But now she hates babies because of me,” Kadi says. “What if you guys wanted to have kids or something?”

Sara stares blankly. Kadi starts giggling. “Guess I don't have to worry about that one,” she says. “You sure you're not bottling up some secret maternal instincts?”

Sara shoves her off the couch. But Kadi’s Two enough, she rolls and comes up ready, tackles Sara to the floor, laughing.

And that's where they are when Rokia walks in.

 

“Hi Rokia!” Kadi calls, but she doesn't loosen her grip enough for Sara to get her arm free. Sara sighs, taps out with the other arm. Kadi lets her up with a triumphant grin, then looks back at Rokia, who’s still standing by the door with a bemused smile. “Your wife needs to fight more girls, just sparring with D makes her fight like a dude.”

“Hey!” Sara says. “Some of us haven't been sparring since elementary school, okay.”

Kadi just keeps grinning, pleased with herself, and finally Rokia shakes her head and laughs. “Glad you kids are having fun,” she says. “But we better get some dinner put together before Lyme shows up and yells at us.”

Sara and Kadi both glance at the empty tub of ice cream. Rokia rolls her eyes. “No, ice cream does not count as dinner,” she calls over her shoulder on the way into the kitchen.

Sara follows her, catches up as she’s opening the fridge, comes up behind her for a hug. Mistake, she realizes, as Rokia tenses, she wasn't thinking. She steps back to let Rokia turn around. “I'll make food,” Sara says, hoping Rokia can read the apology. “Go sit, you look tired.”

Rokia sighs, but she heads for the table. Kadi’s collecting her papers, and Rokia glances down. “What're you working on?” she asks.

“Oh, mostly structural mechanics today,” Kadi says. “It's not too bad.”

Rokia picks up the top sheet. Sara opens the fridge again and takes inventory.

“I did a little of this,” Rokia says, “Wiress sent me a book.”

There's vegetables, fresh from Allie’s garden. Sara pulls out tomatoes and onions and some kind of greens.

“Oh yeah?” Kadi’s saying. “I didn't know that.”

“Yeah,” Rokia sounds preoccupied. There's eggs, too. Tomatoes and onions and greens, the eggs can poach in the sauce. Easy.

She looks up. Rokia's still looking at the sheet of Kadi’s homework, frowning. “Yeah, her and Beetee taught me all kinds of stuff.” She glances up, hands the paper to Kadi with a rueful smile. “I'm glad you get to learn it the regular way.”

Kadi ducks her head, looks pleased. Rokia puts an arm around her shoulder, half-hugs her, brushes some stray hair away from Kadi’s face. Kadi ducks out with her work and Rokia comes over to where Sara’s collecting stuff to make food.

“Hi,” she says quietly, stepping up next to Sara.

“Hey,” Sara says, putting her things down. “How’re you doing?”

Rokia shrugs. “It's fine,” she says, which is Rokia-code for not actually fine but doesn't want to talk about it.

Sara hands her a couple tomatoes and a knife. Kadi comes back in a minute later. “Can I help?” she asks.

“Nah,” Sara says. “Perch somewhere and chat.”

Kadi does, hops up onto a patch of unused countertop and starts telling stories about kids from school. Mason comes up once or twice and Sara has to work to keep a straight face. Rokia glances in her direction, eyebrow raised, but Sara just shakes her head.

Rokia unwinds as they work, until when she's finished chopping and hands off to Sara to actually cook the food, she goes to sit at the table and the two of them launch into a conversation about aerodynamics that Sara doesn't even try to follow.

And sure enough, before they've finished eating the door opens and Lyme calls hello.

“We're eating,” Rokia calls back, pointedly.

“Good,” Lyme says as she walks in. “Hi Sara, Hi Kadi.”

Sara gets up. “You want something to drink? I think we finished all the greens but there's more bread and stuff.”

Lyme shakes her head. “Nah, I'm fine, just wanted to check in.” She leans against the doorframe and apparently has an entire conversation with Rokia without either of them saying a word.

Sara sits back down and finishes her food, starts reaching for the others’ plates. “If you all have stuff to do, go ahead,” she says. “I can clean up.”

Rokia scowls at her. “You don't have to do everything,” she says.

“I know,” Sara smiles back. “But I got this, seriously.”

Rokia stares her down a little longer, then sighs and heads out back with Lyme, while Kadi recolonizes the kitchen table and starts scribbling.

They're not gone long, and when she comes back in Rokia doesn't look like they've been fighting. Lyme doesn't come back, this time, Rokia calls a goodbye at the door and comes over to meet Sara. This time Rokia wraps her arms around Sara’s waist, rests her head against Sara’s shoulder for a minute before letting go and grabbing a dish towel.

Sara sees Kadi watching, turns to wink. Kadi smiles and settles back in.

 

Kadi finishes her work and the two of them disappear downstairs, while Sara curls up with a book and a cup of tea and turns on some music. A couple hours later her phone buzzes. Lyme: _Put that girl to bed, will you?_

Sara smiles. _Which one?_ She sends back.

_Both of them, but only one’s gonna fight you on it._

_I'll call if I need backup_

_Do that_

Sara sighs, sets down her book and turns off the music, heads downstairs. “Bedtime, kids,” she calls, as she gets to where she can see the place. The two of them are crowded over something on the work table, their heads bent close until they look up at her with matching dismayed expressions. Sara sighs, shakes her head, but she knows she's smiling. “Your toys will still be here in the morning,” she adds, sweetly.

The two of them don't usually look all that alike, it's Allie who looks most like Rokia of the two girls, but these unimpressed flat-mouthed stares match almost perfectly.

“Yeah, alright,” Rokia says finally, sounding put-upon. “Kadi, you have class in the morning anyway.”

Kadi sighs as she reaches for her datapad, but when she brushes past Sara on the stairs she smiles. Rokia follows her, and Sara comes close behind, reaching out to turn off the light.

Kadi says goodnight and heads upstairs, but Rokia hesitates. Glances toward the downstairs bathroom. Or, more likely, the medicine cabinet.

Sara reaches down, interlaces their fingers and squeezes. “Bring it up with you,” she says. “If you sleep fine without it, okay, if you wake up you can take it then.”

“Yeah, but then it’ll be late and it’ll screw up the whole morning,” Rokia says.

“And you know how much I hate lazy mornings,” Sara deadpans.

Rokia glares at her, then sighs, runs a hand through her hair. “Fine,” she says, goes to fetch the bottle.

 

Sara can usually sleep through anything. Years of sleeping in barracks and cramped crew cars will teach you that or make you crazy. But by now she's taught herself to notice when Rokia starts moving around or making noise in her sleep.

And she's not surprised when Rokia jerks awake and gasps, freezing in an effort not to wake Sara up.

“Hey,” Sara says quietly, rolling over. “You wanna c’mere?” It's even odds either way, really. Sara much prefers nights like this, when Rokia doesn't say anything, just slides over and lets Sara hold her close. It's a few minutes before Rokia starts taking big, deep breaths and shifts away, rolls onto her back.

“Fuck,” she says, hands over her eyes.

“You wanna talk?” Sara asks

Rokia shakes her head. Takes her hands away from her eyes, blinks and looks up at the ceiling. Sara props herself up on one elbow and looks over. Rokia's taking deep, deliberate breaths, but her eyes are wide and frightened, body tense.

“You know what I'm gonna ask,” Sara says, trying to keep her voice light.

Rokia rolls her eyes, nods. Swallows. “Yeah.” She says, “I do.”

Sara rolls toward the edge of the bed, sits up and finds the glass of water and the bottle of pills, gets one out. She turns back toward Rokia, who’s turned towards her. “What time is it?” Rokia asks.

Sara finds her watch. “Almost two.”

Rokia groans. “I just want to fucking sleep like a fucking human being,” she grouses. “Why is that so damn hard?”

“I mean…” Sara says. “I think you know, but also yeah. That sucks.”

Another eye roll. “I could go downstairs, wear myself out for an hour,” she says, as though it's a negotiating position.

“Yeah and then Lyme will come over here and feed me my own liver,” Sara says, because no, she is not getting pulled into that spiral of crazy in the middle of the fucking night.

“Kadi needs breakfast—”

“Girl, she's practically grown, she can make coffee and oatmeal just fine. Plus I'll get up to make sure, if it'll make you feel better.”

“Yeah but she's been more clingy, I don't want her to think—”

“Babygirl, you know I love you, but that's a load of bullshit,” Sara says. “She's worried about you, best thing you can do is take care of yourself.”

Rokia glares. Shuts her mouth. Opens it. Sits up, gestures for the glass. “Fucking fine,” she says. Sara hands her the pill

“I could just take half,” Rokia says.

“You can take half once the nightmares aren't so bad,” Sara says. “You don't think Lyme told me how this works?”

Rokia sighs, swallows the pill, swallows the water, flops down in bed and rolls to face away.

Sara sighs and settles herself.

“Thanks,” Rokia says, after a bit. It's grudging, and she doesn't uncurl, but it's also drowsy, so Sara will take it.

Fuck. She stares up at the ceiling until Rokia’s breathing evens out, sleep-shallow instead of panic-shallow, her body going slack. Watches the blankets rise and fall with Rokia’s breathing, forces herself to let go of the frustration and the anger (at the situation, and everyone to blame for it, never at Rokia, not even now). Forces herself to take deep breaths, counting the inhales and the exhales until she manages to sleep.

 

She dreams of gunfire. Most of it her own, crouched on top of a boxcar firing at black-clad figures in the shadows. Sees nameless faces she knows in the dream are enemies, dreams they go down, bullets leaving ragged holes, eyes dead and blank.

She wakes up, to the alarm she set to check on Kadi, tastes blood because she bit her cheek somehow in her sleep, feels the rush of adrenaline, righteous fury and excitement and ruthless fierce pleasure, and—

She doesn't miss it, not really. Not any of the rest of it certainly. But— but. So much more satisfying, making the world better by shooting people.

 

Rokia stirs faintly when Sara gets up, but Sara just rubs her back through the blanket. “Shh, it's okay, I'll be right back.”

She tiptoes over to Kadi’s room and knocks. Kadi answers, looks out morning-dazed. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Sara says. “But I convinced Rokia to sleep in for once and one condition was I'd check on you in the morning.”

Kadi looks confused, laughs a little. “Okay?” she says. “I mean, I'm a big girl, I know how to make coffee.”

“This is what I said,” Sara replies dryly. “But I promised, so I'm checking.”

Kadi shakes her head. “Alright, duty done, go back to bed. You look like you could use another couple hours yourself.”

Sara nods. “Planning on it,” she says. “See you this afternoon.”

“Okay,” Kadi says again, pushes the door closed.

Sara goes back to bed. She sleeps lightly, and doesn't dream.

 

When Sara wakes up again, Rokia’s watching her through half-lidded sleepy eyes, head on one hand. Sara smiles, shifts closer, curls on her side. “Hey there,” she says. “You’re awake.”

“Kind of,” Rokia says. She sighs, but it mostly seems contented, relaxed rather than resentful.

“Hmm,” Sara says. “Kadi’s gone, we could go curl up on the couch and watch movies and drink tea.”

Rokia yawns, considering. But Sara knows if they actually stay in _bed_ too long Rokia will get antsy. Somehow at least the pretense of doing something will actually let her relax.

“C’mon,” Sara says, “It’s my week off, y’know.”

Rokia nods, stretches. “Okay,” she says, and sits up. Sara follows her, and for once Rokia’s moving slow enough Sara can catch up, wrap an arm around Rokia’s waist and let her fingers trail under the hem of Rokia’s T-shirt. Rokia shivers, turns to face Sara, presses close and stretches up for a kiss. Something in Sara’s chest unknots, even as she makes sure her arms stay loose, don’t pull tight enough to make Rokia feel trapped. And when Rokia pulls back, it’s with a lopsided smile, still sleepy-eyed and loose limbed.

“Hmm,”Rokia’s eyebrows go up. “Yes okay, you have good ideas,” she says, pads for the door still in sleep clothes, shorts and someone’s enormous stolen T-shirt, her fingers pushing the collar to one side to dig absently at the muscles in her shoulder.

It takes a second, after that, for Sara’s brain to wake up, and she has to hurry to catch up with Rokia down the stairs. Rokia heads for the couch but Sara hesitates. “I’ll make tea,” she says, “you get cozy.” Rokia looks up and nods, pulls the blanket off the back of the couch while Sara heads for the kitchen. Because yeah, she’d like something hot to drink, but also they should eat something, and if they curl up on the couch now they’re _both_ liable to forget for…a while. Hopefully.

But there’s toaster waffles, and honey, and cinnamon, and tea, and it’s quick enough Sara’s only starting to get cold by the time everything’s ready.

Rokia rolls her eyes a little at the food, but she waits for Sara to sit in the corner of the couch before wedging herself in, leaning back against Sara’s shoulder and picking up one of the waffles. And okay if Rokia’s going to eat, she can damn well eat with her hands if she wants, and then Sara can too, even if it’s a little tricky to keep from getting cinnamon in Rokia’s hair. Food finished, Sara settles back. Rokia curls against her, licking honey off her fingers absently, then looks up, smiling like she knows _exactly_ how fucking distracting that is. And oh yes, she definitely does, interlaces her hand with Sara’s and pulls Sara’s fingers toward her mouth. Sara groans, until Rokia turns so Sara has to shift, lie almost flat while Rokia gets a knee between her legs and her hands on either side of Sara’s face, leans down and kisses her.

And earlier it was sleepy and friendly, this is—well, Sara’s not really sure, because that’s the point when her brain flings up its hands and decides it’s no longer needed here.

Yes. Sara has _very_ good ideas.

 

“Tea’s got cold,” Rokia says, later, reaching from where she’s curled against Sara to feel the side of the mug. She pulls her hand back, twists up so Sara can she she’s teasing.

“And I’d make more,” Sara says, digging in a little with the fingers she has wrapped around Rokia’s waist. “But then we’d both have to move, and I really don’t think it’s worth it.”

“No,” Rokia says, pulling the blanket over them and settling back. “But you should make that thing entertain us.” She waves vaguely toward the TV, hands the remote to Sara.

It’s pretty much permanently set on the nature channel, and even on the rare occasions when Selene wants to watch terrible shit so she can mock it, it gets set back before it’s turned off. So the scariest thing they could see when it’s turned back on again is a grizzly bear.

Today though it’s District Four, a guy from Three on a fishing boat getting kitted up to dive down and explore—something. Doesn’t really matter, because Rokia’s half-watching and drifting toward sleep again, as though her body’s decided that it might as well get as much in as it can while she’s not paying attention.

 

They both wake up with a start when the door opens, but then they hear, “Just me, girls,” in Lyme’s voice, and Sara feels Rokia breathe again, make a halfhearted attempt at sitting up. “Stay put,” Lyme says, half permission, half command. So Rokia lies back down, although Sara imagines she can feel Rokia’s eyes rolling even from behind.

Lyme comes around to grab the empty plate, one corner of her mouth quirking up at the mostly-full mugs of cold tea, and Sara hears her drop them in the kitchen. “I’ll leave you be,” she says, from by the door. “Might want lunch at some point,” she adds, dryly, and the door closes before Rokia can get out any sarcastic response.

“I should go in for the afternoon,” Rokia says reluctantly, stretching and generally working her way towards actually awake.

“Nope,” Sara says. And _doesn’t_ pull Rokia back in, even though she wants to. “You should stay right here.”

Rokia sighs. “I can’t sleep _all_ day,” she says.

Sara has to grant that, if only because it’ll fuck up Rokia’s sleep schedule just when she’s trying to have one again. “There are more things in the world than sleep and work,” she says.

Rokia pushes herself up to sit, scrubs her hands over her face. Huffs something like a rueful laugh. “Okay,” she says, “like what?”

Sara takes the time to sit up and think of something. “Bikes’re in the garage,” she suggests. “Doesn’t appear to be raining.”

Rokia cocks her head to one side. “True,” she grants. Sara lets her think. Eventually she sighs and nods. “Okay, let me call down to the shop and make sure they don’t need me down there,” she says. “And then we can ride up to the old quarry lake or something.”

She steals the blanket when she gets up, smirking a little at Sara as she wraps it around her shoulders. Sara isn’t going to complain. She heads for the kitchen while Rokia makes her calls, puts together sandwiches and a couple of early apples to take along, finds in the fridge a bottle with a note in Lyme’s handwriting that just says “Drink this.”

She pulls it out, sets it on the counter, picks aimlessly at the bowl of trail mix on the table until Rokia comes in. “Okay,” she says, “Blaine just made fun of me for thinking they couldn’t handle things, so I guess we’re clear.”

“Present from Lyme,” Sara says, pointing at the bottle. “And _then_ we can go.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Rokia says, picks it up. She snorts when she sees the note, but screws off the lid of the bottle anyway, scrunches up her nose and drinks. “Come on,” she says, “I’ll finish the damn thing while we get dressed.”

 

Sara follows Rokia through the city streets, out onto the highway, until they get to the rutted dirt access road, almost invisible in the brush. Rokia takes the turn fast, starts up the road with her head down, weight balanced on the footpegs, slaloming around potholes. It’s different from riding with Selene. Selene’s just as fast, but Selene rides like she’s daring the bike to throw her, charges through practically anything full speed ahead. Rokia’s more finesse, balance and precision so she doesn’t ever hit something that’d stress the shocks, just slides past. Sara’s somewhere in between. Less precise than Rokia, less reckless than Selene, and she doesn’t usually beat either of them if they’re racing but she can keep up just fine. They top the ridge and hit the wide flat road that used to be this quarry town’s main street, and as usual Rokia guns it, races past the abandoned buildings until she has to slam on the brakes to avoid flying off the edge into the quarry pit.

Sara pulls up a little later, having no particular need to risk life and limb for five seconds of hair-raising speed. Rokia pulls her helmet off and grins, eyes sparkling. “Beat you,” she says.

Sara sets her helmet on the seat in front of her and scratches at her scalp. “Yeah, you forget that unlike Selene I don’t really care that much,” she says. Rokia laughs, gets down and walks over to the edge, a little too close to the sheer drop-off for Sara’s comfort.

“You are a menace,” Sara says, and Rokia turns to smirk at her.

“You like it,” she shoots back. And Sara really doesn’t have a response to that, because, well, she does.

 

There’s something about the air and the ride that mean Rokia doesn’t even whine when Sara hands her a sandwich, just sits on the grass with her legs stretched out and watches…well, everything.

“Thanks,” she says, shifty-eyed, when she finishes. “I—this is good.”

Sara slides over and knocks against her shoulder. “See, I do have good ideas,” Sara says. Rokia leans against her.

“I’m sorry I got so—“

“Rokia,” Sara starts, warning.

“No, I know, just… I didn’t expect it to be this hard.”

Sara shrugs. “Is what it is,” she says. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Rokia sighs. “Y’know, the weirdest part is… she got to choose, and she still decided she wants a baby, and I’m just…” Rokia spreads her hands. “ _Why?_ ”

The pure, simple bafflement on Rokia’s face makes Sara laugh. Rokia glares, then shakes her head and sighs. “No, babe, I’m not laughing at you,” Sara says, “I don’t get it either, honestly.”

“I don’t understand Allie, really,” Rokia says. “But as long as she’s happy…”

“Hey,” Sara says. “That’s what’s important. You don’t have to know _why_ , you just have to know she’s doing what she wants and that’s okay.”

Rokia shrugs. “Yeah,” she says. “She’s a good kid.”

Sara tries not to smile. “She’s about to _have_ a kid, Rokia, she’s getting pretty grown up.”

Rokia shakes her head. “I swear I was just trying to teach her how to tie her damn shoelaces,” she says. “How the fuck does that _happen_.”

Sara puts an arm around Rokia’s shoulders. “Time just keeps going forwards,” she says.

“Thankfully,” Rokia says acerbically. “Wouldn’t it suck if it actually started going _backwards_?”

Sara shudders. “Yeah no, let’s just not think about that,” she says.

Rokia leans against her and sighs. “You’re not suddenly going to decide you want babies or something, are you?” she asks, in a tone of voice you could take for joking, if you didn’t know Rokia.

“Fuck no,” Sara says, emphatically. “Kadi asked me that yesterday and I pushed her off the couch.”

“Oh is that why you were pinned to the floor when I got home?” Rokia asks, one eyebrow raised, her eyes searching Sara’s face a lot more seriously than the rest of her expression calls for.

“Your sister’s been fighting since she was little, and in case you didn’t notice she’s almost my size,” Sara says. “It’s not my fault.”

Rokia turns away, looking pleased. “Okay,” she says, shifts and gets up. “C’mon, let’s head home.”

 

Rokia leaves her bike in the driveway, so Sara does too. “I want to check the clutch tension and stuff,” Rokia says, when she pulls her helmet off.

“After dinner,” Sara says.

“Fine,” Rokia sighs. “Yes, okay, after dinner.”

They’re chopping vegetables for stir fry when Kadi rushes in, grinning. “Rokia!” she calls, pulling off her boots.

Rokia goes to the doorway and peeks out.“Yeah?” 

“I was over at Eibhlin’s working on my math homework and I got all of it done and I actually understood it and Eibhlin actually said it was good.”

“Wow,” Rokia says. “Eibhlin doesn’t exactly throw compliments around, well done kiddo.”

Kadi’s beaming as she walks in.

“ _And_ Beetee says I can have time on the school computer to run aerodynamics tests for the rockets this weekend and Eibhlin’s going to help with the coding but she can’t tonight because she promised Claudius they could do fire bubbles once it gets dark.”

“Nice,” Rokia says, pauses, sets down her knife and glances at Sara, one eyebrow raised.

“Go,” Sara says, and Rokia turns.

“Show me?” she asks Kadi, who ducks out and comes back with her datapad, sets it on the kitchen table.

“So,” Kadi starts, and that’s basically the last word Sara understands until she makes them put away their toys to eat.

Rokia remembers about the bikes after dinner. “C’mon,” she tells Kadi, “You can bring that along.”

So Sara and Rokia trade sockets back and forth, checking over the bikes while Kadi sits with her back against the wall and scowls at her datapad, occasionally looking up and asking Rokia something about exception handling in Python 6 or complaining about memory limits on her datapad. There’s an occasional bright light from the direction of Claudius’ house.

 

Sara hands Rokia a pill as they’re heading for bed. “How ‘bout we skip the negotiation, it’s been a good day,” she says.

Rokia’s eyes shift to the side, but she doesn’t immediately start arguing at least. And then she sighs. “Fine,” she says, swallows the thing, finishes the water and hands the glass back to Sara. “There.”

Sara hugs her, and Rokia rests her head on Sara’s shoulder. “Thank you,” Sara says quietly.

“It has been a good day,” Rokia says, pulling back and climbing into bed. “So y’know. Thanks for that.”

Sara slides in on the other side, curls so she’s facing Rokia. “Goodnight,” she says.

“Goodnight,” Rokia echoes. Then, “I love you,” almost too soft to hear.

“Love you too,” Sara whispers back.

Rokia reaches out, squeezes Sara’s hand once, then rolls over to face the door.

Sara watches until she’s sure Rokia’s asleep, then drifts off herself.

And this time nothing wakes them up until the sun shines in the window.


	2. Chapter 2

 

The call comes while Rokia’s eating breakfast. It’s Heidi.

“The baby was born late last night,” Heidi says. “They're calling her Ana, she's perfectly healthy, and Alima’s doing fine.”

“Oh,” Rokia says, dumbfounded. She knew it'd be soon, but… “oh, that's great, I…” she pauses, takes a deep breath. Heidi just waits. “How long till she goes home?”

“This afternoon, probably, unless something comes up.”

“Is everything set at the house, should I come help?” Rokia asks.

“We’ve got it all taken care of, babygirl, why don't you plan on coming down in a couple days, when they're settled a bit.”

It feels like cheating. “You sure?” Rokia asks. “I’m happy to help.”

Heidi chuckles. “Between us and her friends and Caleb’s family, we're liable to be tripping over each other, you got nothing to worry about.”

Rokia smiles. “Okay,” she says. “I…I'll give her a call tomorrow maybe, see when I should come.”

“Sure,” Heidi says. “I'll let her know.”

“Give her a hug for me,” Rokia says, a little bewildered. “Tell her…well, congratulations and I'm glad she's okay and I love her.” It comes out all at once, a little tangled.

“I sure will, honey, she'll be glad to hear it.”

 

Rokia hangs up, sits down on the kitchen chair, and bursts into tears.

“Rokia?” Sara's voice sounds worried. “Rokia, what's wrong?” she asks, coming into the kitchen. She pulls a chair up in front of Rokia, takes her hands.

Rokia blinks, swallows, takes a deep breath. “Allie had the baby—she's fine, everything’s fine” she adds, when Sara's face goes blank and scared. “I’m just…crying, apparently.”

“Oh, honey, c’mere,” Sara says, pulling Rokia up and hugging her tight. “Of course you are, c’mon.” Sara leads them over to the couch and Rokia curls up against her and waits for the tears to stop.

Then she sighs, sits up a little and rubs at her eyes. “I can't believe it,” she says.

“I can,” Sara says, smiling at her. “She looked like she was gonna explode last time I saw her, and that's been a couple weeks already.”

Rokia giggles a little, “I can't believe how big she got, I don't remember…” she stops, shrugs. “Guess either mom didn't get that big or I didn't notice.”

She catches the jump of Sara’s jaw and sighs. “Sorry.”

“Don't,” Sara says, flatly. “I remember Kadi was early, don't know about Allie but I wouldn't be surprised. But anyway Alima’s been taking care, and Caleb’s the size of two of you, so no wonder.”

Rokia snorts. “He's not that big,” she says.

“Girl,” Sara says, taking the deflection. “Just because he's not Lyme’s size doesn't mean he's ‘not that big’. You've been in Two too long.”

Rokia snuggles back against Sara. “Her name’s Ana,” Rokia says, shaking her head. It's still unreal to think about.

“That's a nice name,” Sara says.

“She's gonna be the safest kid in the damn country,” Rokia says, smiling. “Devon and Brutus and Heidi and Marc and them’ll all rain hell on anyone who looks at that kid wrong.”

“Not to mention you,” Sara says, “and Lyme, and Selene and D, and me and Matt and Kadi if mere mortals count.”

Rokia snorts, elbows Sara in the side. “Course you count,” she says, automatically. She subsides for a bit, then sighs and sits up. “I'm gonna go tell Lyme,” she says, a little reluctantly. She's got better things to do, but the familiar restlessness is starting to edge back up, and with Sara here trying to work herself out of it at the shop and on the trails is even less likely to work than usual.

“Good call,” Sara says, warm eyes holding Rokia's steady. “I'll be here.”

Rokia nods and heads out.

 

Lyme doesn't look surprised when Rokia walks in.

“Hey there, kiddo,” she says.

“Heidi called you,” Rokia guesses.

“Yep,” Lyme says. “How’re you doing?”

“Fine,” Rokia snaps, automatically. “My adult sister had a baby, everyone’s fine, it’s fine.”

Lyme raises an eyebrow.

“Look, can we just punch each other for a while and not talk about it?” Rokia says, exasperated.

That gets most of a smile. “Sure,” Lyme says, and heads for the back door.

 

“It’s just _weird_ ,” Rokia says later, while Lyme’s checking her over and she has a bag of ice held to her not-quite dislocated shoulder.

Lyme doesn’t say anything, pokes carefully at a bruse on Rokia’s side until Rokia hisses, then moves on, apparently satisfied nothing serious is wrong.

“I just can’t quit trying to remember everything so I can make sure she’s got what she needs, and then I realize she’s _fine_ and Heidi already made sure she has what she needs, and then some, and then I get —ow!”

“You should tape that knee for a bit,” Lyme says, unperturbed, feeling around the kneecap, getting up for another ice bag. When she comes back she sighs. “Rokia, you’re talking to _me_. Drop the bullshit, or I’ll kick your ass all over again.”

Rokia starts giggling at that, even though it’s not really funny, and then laughing hurts, and she tries to stop because _fuck, ow_ , and now that Lyme’s done poking at her, apparently, she should go home, because Sara will be waiting for her, except _fuck_ , when she goes to stand up her knee almost gives out and Lyme grabs her arm when she wobbles. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” is what comes out, when what she meant to say was… well, not that.

Lyme rolls her eyes. “Did I say you had to?” she says. “C’mon, let’s get you settled and I’ll go get you some painkillers.”

Rokia lets Lyme lead her over to the couch, sits down. Carefully. Maybe on second thought she shouldn’t go home looking like she’s sure she does, Sara will worry. Lyme comes over with a glass and Rokia scowls, but she takes the stupid pills because she does actually know she’ll only feel worse in a couple of hours.

Lyme sits on the chair, lets Rokia have the couch to herself, so Rokia stretches out and tries to find some position that hurts less. “You can’t kick my ass again,” Rokia says, “Because I’m not fucking moving.”

Lyme snorts. “Okay,” she says, and picks up a book.

“It’s just shitty memories,” Rokia says later. “It doesn’t even matter.”

“Okay,” Lyme says again.

“I should be helping. I’m her sister.”

“Nah,”

“I am.”

“Sure, but Heidi’s her ma, and she says it’s under control.”

That makes Rokia shudder. “Well, if her _mom_ says everything’s okay, then I guess I got nothin’ to worry about.”

“ _Heidi_ says it’s under control,” Lyme says. “Only reason the mom part’s in there is because I’m pretty sure ‘mom’ trumps ‘sister’ in that game you’re playing.”

“Oh _sure_ ,” Rokia says. “Mom’s never been _in_ that game.” Why won’t Lyme quit _pushing_ her, dammit.

“Well, Heidi’s pretty good at taking care of people, so I’d trust her,” Lyme says, back to her calm, reasonable self.

“Allie’s _mom_ left her alone in the house when she was six months old because she _forgot_ about her,” Rokia snaps. “So excuse me if I don’t trust she’s got what she needs just ‘cuz her mom says she does.” She scowls up at the ceiling. “But sure, she gets what she needs anyway, ‘cuz she’s Allie, she’s always got people lookin’ out for her.”

Now Lyme puts down the book. “ _She_ doesn’t have to figure out how a fucking diaper works, and she doesn’t have to buy baby formula and she doesn’t even need me anymore, because—“ Rokia stops. Her teeth grind, she should shut _up,_ this is _stupid_ , but— “She had me, and now she’s got a mom, and I’m just—oh who the fuck cares, shit.”

“Rokia,” Lyme says, softly.

Rokia’s crying again now. For fuck’s sake. “I know, I’m not… I shouldn’t be mad at her, I’m _not_ mad at her, I just, I don’t even fucking know, I’m —“ she fists her hands in her hair and closes her eyes. So she feels Lyme come over before she opens her eyes to see, scoots down and half-sits long enough to let Lyme sit down before letting her head drop into Lyme’s lap.

Lyme loosens Rokia’s hands, scratches at her scalp. “You can be mad,” she says. “Fuck knows I am.”

Rokia scowls up at her. “You don’t sound mad.”

“No, because me being mad won’t help you.” Lyme pauses, looks down and smiles sardonically at Rokia. “Ask Brutus sometime, he’ll probably give you a bill for booze and doctors, because if you think you’re sore…”

Rokia snorts. She’s seen Lyme and Brutus fight. She’s even seen them when they don’t think she’s watching, and yeah, there’d be doctors bills after that all right.

“But it’s stupid to be jealous of Allie, I _want_ her to have what she needs.”

“They’re two different things,” Lyme says. “She’s your sister, you want what’s best for her, but you’re allowed to be mad nobody got you what _you_ needed.”

And that’s like…like someone cut the lines holding Rokia together. She forgets to breathe for a second. “Oh,” she says softly, and then she’s sobbing, and despite the fact that everything hurts she crawls into Lyme’s lap and curls up small.

Eventually she winds down, catches her breath, relaxes against Lyme and listens to Lyme’s steady heartbeat. Starts to uncurl, stops. “Oh, _man_ , I feel like shit,” she says.

Lyme laughs, and even Rokia has to smile. She does feel like shit: her eyes burn and her head aches from crying, her shoulder and her knee lead a whole chorus of other screaming muscles, she wants to sleep for a week.

And somehow it’s still better than how she felt when she came over here.

“Lie down,” Lyme says, getting up. “I’ll get you a warm washcloth for your face, sleep for a bit and let me warn your wife before she sees you and tries to kill me.”

Rokia snorts. “She wouldn’t kill you.”

“Nah,” Lyme says, unconcerned. “I did say _try_ , but in any case I’d rather save us both the trouble.”

 

When Rokia wakes up Sara’s sitting in Lyme’s chair, reading a book. Rokia starts to stretch, sucks in a breath and stops. Sara looks over with a crooked smile. “Hey,” she says. “Lyme says you should take that stuff.” She motions with her chin and Rokia manages to half sit up and see the water and pills on the low table. She reaches for them, takes them, drinks the glass of water, and lies back down.

“You’re not allowed to try and kill Lyme,” Rokia says.

Sara snorts. “I’m not suicidal, thanks,” she says, “And anyway you actually slept so I can’t be too mad.”

“I sleep,” Rokia protests.

“Right.” Sara says. It sounds like an argument but the word’s agreement and Rokia isn’t awake enough to argue.

Everything hurts, but Rokia’s brain feels like someone opened a window and swept out some cobwebs, echoing space where there’s usually all sorts of shit to trip on. And quiet.

So all in all, she feels great. Especially once the painkillers start to work.

She stretches toward the TV remote, but it’s out of reach. So she looks up at Sara, eyebrows raised. Sara rolls her eys, gets up and tosses Rokia the remote. Rokia flips the TV on and half-dozes while she listens to someone talk about mountain cats.

 

—

 

Rokia wakes up the next morning not entirely sure she can get out of bed, and even less sure that she wants to.

Sara chuckles. “I do not understand why you do this to yourself,” she says.

Rokia sighs. “You ever feel so shitty a hangover feels like an improvement?” she asks.

Sara laughs, startled. “Yeah, actually, because at least then there’s a good reason I feel like shit.”

“Exactly,” Rokia says. “It's kinda like that.”

Sara shakes her head. “C’mon then, get up and eat something so you can take more pills.”

Rokia whines getting up, but she's being a little melodramatic. Yeah, she's going to have to be careful for a few days, and yeah she’s gonna have to get Lyme to tape her knee if she wants to go running at all, and yes also she’s black and blue in all kinds of fun places, but whatever. She'll live.

She does let Sara make breakfast and coffee and bring it out while she sprawls on the couch though.

She finishes her coffee and looks over at Sara. “I need to call Alima and see when I can go visit,” she says.

Sara looks away. “You sure?” She asks. “Could wait a couple days.”

Rokia starts to shrug, winces instead. “It's not going to be easier later,” she says. “And anyway I want to see her, make sure she's really okay. You know how Allie is about asking for stuff.”

Sara gives her a very flat look. “Yes,” she says. “I do.”

Okay, she probably deserved that. “Anyway. Do you want to come along?”

“Like I'm letting you do that by yourself,” Sara says. “Of course I'm coming. You should probably get Lyme to come along too.”

“Lyme hates babies,” Rokia says. “And she doesn't even know Allie all that well.”

Sara just keeps looking at her. “What?” Rokia asks.

“Honey, I love you, but every time something's come up with Alima or the baby or anything, you've got knocked on your ass,” Sara says. “Bring Lyme along, she can fucking stay in the car if she wants to but I don't want you doing this without her close by.” Rokia scowls. “Pretty sure Lyme would agree with me too, and I will call her up if I have to to prove it.”

Dammit. “Fine.” Rokia says. “I will call Alima and ask when my entourage can take over her damn house.”

“Rokia,” Sara starts, “I'm not—”

“It's fine,” Rokia says. “I'm just bitchy today.”

Sara keeps quiet. Rokia manages to stand up without bending her right knee, and goes to find her phone.

 

It rings four times before Caleb picks up.

“Hello?” He sounds tired.

“Hi, Caleb, its Rokia,” she says. “Is Allie there?”

“Yeah, let me take her the phone,” he says, and Rokia takes the handful of seconds that takes him to breathe, try to be calm.

“Hey, Rokia,” Alima’s voice is tired, too, but warm.

“Hey, babygirl, how’re you doing?” Rokia asks.

“Okay, I think,” Alima says, amusement and astonishment in the half laugh that comes with the words. “I can't believe how…she's tiny, I'm half scared she'll break.”

Rokia blinks back memories. “She'll grow fast,” she says. “And you're not gonna break her.”

Alima’s deep breath hisses through the phone line. “She's gorgeous, Rokia,” she says.

“Well, I want to come see her,” Rokia says, “Sara and Lyme’ll come along, is there a time that works?”

“Oh, well, anytime you want really,” Alima says. “She seems like she's more awake in the mornings, I guess.”

“Tomorrow morning then, around 9?” Rokia suggests. “Anything I can bring you?”

Alima laughs, “Rokia, between Marc and Heidi and Caleb’s folks and Devon and Brutus and everybody, I don't even know what all is in this house anymore, our freezer is full and people keep bringing food and I haven't hardly left the couch since I got home.”

“Good,” Rokia says.

“So just come, don't worry about it, okay?” Alima says, “I'm serious.”

Rokia sighs. “Okay then, I love you, and I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Love you too,” Alima echoes, and the line goes dead.

 

Sara’s smiling at her. “Well, that didn't sound too bad,” she says.

Rokia sighs, scratches at her scalp. “Guess not,” she says. Sara steps up and hugs her, gently.

“I love you, crazy girl,” Sara says into Rokia's hair.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rokia says, but she’s smiling.

 

Of course Sara’s right, Lyme insists on coming, and she insists on driving them. Sara’s morning-grumpy, curled around a mug of coffee in the backseat the whole way, and Lyme keeps glancing over at Rokia when she thinks Rokia’s not looking.

Rokia pretends not to notice. Snapping that she's fine is pretty clear indication she actually isn't, so there's not much point.

They pull up in front of Alima’s neat little house, flowers in the front yard splashing color all up the walk. “I oughta come down and weed for her or something,” Sara says absently. Rokia looks up, and Sara looks sheepish. “Too much time out in the farming districts, I guess,” she adds.

Rokia knocks, then pushes the door open and calls hello, so Alima won't feel like she has to get up.

Caleb is sitting in an armchair, watching Alima, who's on the couch. Nursing the baby. Ana.

Caleb goes to stand but Rokia shakes her head. There's kitchen chairs dragged in by whoever were the last people to come by. Lyme sits a little behind Rokia, drops one hand to her shoulder.

“Hey, Rokia,” Alima says. “Hi Lyme, hi Sara.”

The other two nod. “Hey, Allie,” Rokia says, soft. The baby, feeling Alima shift, pulls away and cries.

When she doesn't seem to want to nurse anymore, Alima shifts the baby to her shoulder, and she settles, whimpering a little.

“D’you want to hold her?” Alima asks, shyly.

Rokia takes a breath, and nods. “Sure,” she says, coming over. Alima hands her the baby, and… and it's so familiar. “Hi, Ana,” Rokia whispers, tucking her up against her chest, a hand coming automatically behind the baby's head. The baby fusses a bit, and she shifts, swaying a little. “There,” she says, quiet. “See, I'm not so scary.”

She smells the same. The same surprisingly heavy, warm, tiny…person, quiet against Rokia's skin.

“She likes you,” Alima says. “She wasn't that quiet for Heidi even.”

Rokia shifts again and her knee twinges. She moves toward the couch, and Alima gives her some space. She moves carefully, slowly, till she's sitting, one arm keeping the baby pressed close against her chest.

Alima smiles at her. “Was I ever really that small?” She asks, incredulous.

Rokia smiles back. “Smaller,” she says. “This one’s big, as babies go.”

Allie shakes her head. “People keep telling me that,” she says, “and she sure felt big, but…” she trails off.

“Rokia was afraid you weren't getting pampered enough,” Sara says, when the silence has stretched long enough to feel tense. “You sure she can't, I dunno, build you a robot to change diapers or something?”

Allie grins. “Well, now that nobody has brought yet,” she says. “But I figure Caleb can be in charge of that end, since I have to be in charge of the other end.”

Caleb chuckles. “And I'm happy to do it,” he says. “You did all the work for 9 months, only fair I do my share now.”

Lyme looks at Rokia, with an expression she usually uses for particularly egregious Brutusisms. Rokia would maybe agree, if they were talking about anyone other than her sister. As is she likes Caleb’s position just fine.

They talk for a while, about Kadi and about the garden and about the weather, and the whole time Rokia’s listening to them, sure, but also feeling the baby’s weight against her chest, warm even breath against her skin. So she feels when the rhythm shifts, has the baby sucking on a finger before she even starts crying. That only works for a minute before the kid figures out there's nothing there for her, and Rokia passes her back to Alima.

Who's watching the whole thing, a bemused look on her face.

“Shhh, it's okay,” Alima says, shifting a little awkwardly to get the baby settled. “There you go.”

Easy as that. No bottles, no heating water, no formula to buy. Ana sucks greedily and goes quiet.

 

“We should head out,” Lyme says. “Let you relax.”

Rokia almost protests. But Lyme is right. And Allie really is fine, and they shouldn't wear out their welcome.

“Thanks for coming,” Alima says. She turns to Rokia. “I'd hug you but,” she gestures down.

“Of course,” Rokia says, standing up carefully. She bends over to kiss the top of Allie’s head. “Call if you need anything.”

Allie smiles. “Will do.”

Caleb follows them to the door. “You take care now,” he says. “Thanks for coming.”

 

It's quiet, on the drive back. Rokia watches out the window, not really paying attention, remembering the weight of the baby in her arms, the careful way you move when you're holding a sleeping infant, the way Allie smiled down at the kid while she nursed, the quiet comfortable house. She doesn't realize quite how faraway she is until they're pulling up to her house and Lyme kills the engine.

Rokia blinks fast, opens the door, steps out. Sara gives her a concerned look and heads inside.

“Rokia,” Lyme says, quietly.

Rokia looks up at her, and for a moment she's confused, and then the moment shatters and she's back here and she can't quite breathe right. Lyme comes over and puts an arm around her. “Come on,” she says, sighing. “Let’s go inside.”

Rokia crawls onto her lap on the couch, and it's stupid and she doesn't understand but she feels small and scared and this feels like the safest place. Lyme rubs her back, wraps loose arms around her. Rokia isn't crying, she just…doesn't want to move.

“You're a good kid, you know that?” Lyme says, softly.

Rokia sighs. It doesn't really feel that way.

Sara comes out with water. Lyme hands a glass to Rokia, watches her drink it. Takes another from Sara for herself.Sara sits next to them.

“Guess you still remember how babies work,” Sara says. “You think you'd remember the layout of that old factory we had the maintenance contract for?”

Rokia swallows. “I dunno,” she says, tries to remember. “Didn't spend as much time there.”

“Oh sure,” Sara says. “Bet you still remember the El lines though.”

Rokia nods. “Blue line to Sal’s from that last place,” she says. “Red line to the Justice Building. Green from down by the Peacekeepers, when we had the house.” She can almost feel the cars sway, hear the wheels on the narrow track.

“And I know you could still find your way around Matt’s shop blindfolded,” Sara says.

Rokia takes a deep breath, and Sara watches, carefully. Another, and she sighs, shifts, slides off Lyme’s lap without ducking away from Lyme’s arm around her shoulders.

“I just… I remember how it felt,” she says. “I can't describe it, I just, I remembered.”

“You don't have to explain, kiddo,” Lyme says. “You're here now, and you don't have to go back.

“Yeah,” Rokia says, “I’m glad.”

Lyme looks at the clock. “What do you want for lunch?” she asks.

Rokia groans. “Okay,” Lyme says. “Sara?”

Sara gets up. “I’ll go see what’s in the fridge.”

Which means Rokia can stay right here. With Lyme, where it’s safe.

Lyme doesn’t say anything, just lets Rokia stay pressed against her, leaves one arm steady over Rokia’s shoulders.

Sara comes back with sandwiches, more water. Lyme eats hers one-handed without comment, and Rokia really should move so Lyme can use her other arm but it doesn’t seem to be a problem, really, so she doesn’t. “You wanna watch something?” Sara asks, once she’s done. “Or there’s cards, or—I dunno.”

She looks worried. Rokia’s not quite sure why, but she knows Sara won’t want to just sit here with nothing to do, Sara always wants to be doing something. “Watch something, maybe?” she says.

Sara flips on the TV, finds a list of movies. The one she picks they’ve watched before, it’s hovercraft hijackers as bad guys and usually Rokia spends half the time making fun of all the inacuracies. This time most of it doesn’t really register, but it’s something to settle on, while most of her brain still seems to be spinning blankly somewhere she can’t get to.

When it’s over Lyme looks down at her and clicks her tongue against her teeth. “C’mon,” she says, “we’re going for a walk.”

Rokia looks at her, confused, but okay, why not. Her body provides some answers to that one when she uncurls and stands up. “Ow,” she says, on general principles, and Lyme sighs.

“It’s better to keep moving,” she says. “We won’t go far.”

“Okay,” Rokia says, heads for the door and pulls on her shoes.

It’s cool and windy today, the air sharp against her cheeks, making her shiver through her sweatshirt. Lyme rolls her eyes and peels off her jacket.

It’s been a while since Rokia’s worn Lyme’s clothes. She lets the sleeves dangle past her fingertips, balls her hands around the cuffs, pulls the hood up, leans against Lyme’s side and smiles. Lyme’s hand comes up to rub her back and then drops back, and Lyme picks up the pace until Rokia’s breath and heartrate quicken.

They go up past the apple orchard and into the woods a bit before Lyme stops, turns back toward Rokia and settles into a fighting stance.

“Ow,” Rokia complains. The walk’s already pulling her brain back from wherever it went off to, and Rokia’s not sure she likes it. If they spar, Lyme’s going to pull her all the way back, and she’ll have to… be here. Think about stuff.

“I know,” Lyme says, and Rokia’s pretty sure she’s doing the mindreader thing again, and not just talking about the soreness. “We won’t go rough like last time.”

Rokia sighs with exaggerated annoyance and slips out of Lyme’s jacket, tossing it over by a tree. “Fine,” she says, and Lyme’s fist lashes out so fast she stumbles back, trying to get out of the way. She’s off-balance, reacting, unsure—and Lyme knocks her down, pins both her shoulders to the dirt for just the length of a breath, then rolls up to her feet, reaches a hand out to haul Rokia up.

It takes two or three more tries before Rokia can pay attention well enough not to get knocked down immediately. More than usual she’s feeling small and weak and pathetic, and finally all of that just makes her mad. Anger helps. She snarls at Lyme and circles to place herself uphill and now it starts feeling like a fight. She forgets they were going to take it easy, and it stops feeling so much like Lyme’s just playing with her, and it still ends up with her on her back in the dirt, leaves in her hair, Lyme standing over her or pinning her and then hauling her back up. Finally Lyme drops her, follows her down, and Rokia stays put, chest heaving. Lyme’s crouched beside her, eyes locked with Rokia’s. “You’re mine,” Lyme snarls, not breaking eye contact. “And I will always, _always_ have your back. You hear me?”

Rokia nods.

“Tell me: you understand?”

“Yes,” Rokia whispers.

“Doesn’t stop just ‘cause you got older, isn’t just about the things you think I care about, you’re my girl and that means all of you. Got it?”

Rokia nods again, but Lyme isn’t satisfied. “Got it.”

And then Lyme’s hauling her up again, hugging her tight. “I got you, okay?” she says, quiet now.

Rokia steps back, looks around. Looks down at herself, and laughs. “Sara’s gonna kill me,” she says, brushing ineffectually at ground in dirt. And then she takes a step, puts weight on her right leg and sucks in a breath. “Fuck, _I’m_ gonna kill me.”

Lyme shakes her head. “Come on,” she says, hauls Rokia up onto her hip, grabs her sweatshirt and hands it to Rokia. “Put that on before you freeze.”

 

Sara looks horrified when they walk in. Rokia laughs, and then she can’t stop giggling, goes over to the couch and pulls off Lyme’s jacket. Lyme follows. Now Sara looks bewildered, and Lyme just keeps being patient. She sits next to Rokia, checks her over, pushes up her pants leg. Rokia’s right knee is already swelling.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sara says, and heads for the kitchen.

By the time she’s back with ice, Lyme’s decided that’s the only thing that’s serious, and Rokia has managed to stop giggling.

Sara drops the ice, hesitates. “3 PM is totally not too early for drinking, right? Because I want a drink.”

Which starts Rokia giggling again. “Not at all,” Lyme says, dryly. “Bring me one while you’re at it.”

 

They play slapjack, because why not, until Lyme decides it’s suppertime and heads into the kitchen to figure out what they’re gonna eat. Sara shifts to sit next to Rokia on the couch. Rokia sighs, lets her head drop against Sara’s shoulder. Fuck, she’s tired.

Tired, and with all the adrenaline and whatever the fuck else drained away, just sad and irritable and hollow-feeling, a jumbled snarl of feelings out of reach for now but sure to show up sometime. Sara puts another movie on after they eat, and Rokia should probably care that she’s wasted the entire day but she can’t really summon the energy to give a fuck.

When the movie’s done, Lyme looks down to where Rokia ended up curled against her. “Go to bed,” Lyme says. “Take a sleeping pill and just call the day over.” It’s half exasperated and half fond, and it’s possible some people’s mentors don’t talk to them that way, especially not ten years out, but Rokia gets it an awful lot.

And she still can’t really manage to care either way, and she really doesn’t see an advantage to being awake, so she sighs and sits up. “Alright, fine,” she says, gets up.

Lyme helps her limp up the stairs while Sara gets the drugs and a glass of water. Lyme tosses her clean sleep clothes and heads back downstairs.

Sara waits, while Rokia changes. She should shower. Oh well. Sara hands her the pill and the water and sits down next to her on the bed. Once Rokia’s handed back the glass Sara leans over and kisses Rokia’s cheek. Rokia smiles, but it comes out twisted up and strange. “I love you,” Sara says softly, taking Rokia’s hand and squeezing.

Rokia just nods.

Sara’s smile is sad. “Sleep,” she says, standing up. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

Rokia should say something. She’s just not sure what. “Goodnight,” is what she settles for, before Sara makes it out the door.

Sara turns back. “Goodnight, Rokia,” she says, turns off the light, and shuts the door.

 

—

 

When Sara gets downstairs Lyme’s leaning against the kitchen doorframe with a glass in her hand. She hands the glass to Sara and turns back to grab her own. Sara sips at it, feels the bourbon trail heat down her throat, and sighs. One corner of Lyme’s mouth quirks up and she goes to sit. Sara sprawls on the couch, her feet up on the coffee table. Everything’s been so tense and tight-coiled all afternoon it’s nice to finally stretch out.

“I hate this shit,” Sara says, emphatically, turning the glass in her hands.

“Yeah,” Lyme says, and sighs. “It’s rough.”

They’re quiet for a bit, until Sara realizes she’s trying to hear something from Rokia’s room and shakes her head, exhales sharply and looks over at Lyme. Who Rokia claims, usually complaining, is a mind-reader, but it wouldn’t take that to tell what Sara’s doing anyway.

“She’ll be asleep by now,” Lyme says. “She’s exhausted, the meds just let her realize that, days like this.”

Sara nods. “I just… I can’t _do_ anything,” she says finally. “She pulls in and shuts down and I can’t fix it, she won’t talk to me, she just—“ Sara stops. Just what, she’s not even quite sure.

Lyme sighs, sets down her glass. “You’re there, and she knows it, and that helps,” she says. “Even when it doesn’t look like it,” she adds, when Sara starts to open her mouth to grumble.

Sara looks away. “She doesn’t want me, though, she wants you,” she says, and that’s stupid and she knows it and she knows it’s not fair and she shouldn’t say it but, well, it’s been a long day.

“She needs me,” Lyme says. “Wishes she didn’t half the time,” she adds, “but mentors are safe, we spend a lot of time convincing the kids of that, and she’s scared.”

“I’m not safe?” Sara asks, and it sounds whiny and defensive and she really does know better but…there it is.

“It’s different,” Lyme says quickly. “She doesnt want to put all that on you.”

Sara nods, sips at her drink. Takes a deep breath and feels her shoulders come down. “She’s always been like that,” Sara says. She pauses. “I guess that’s why it was so scary when she admitted she needed help, with Kadi.”

It wasn’t like today, in a neat house with family and friends and folks bringing food over. Rokia’d been half-dozing on the couch in Sal’s office, holding Kadi, Allie crawling around with a toy car at her feet. And when Kadi’s whimpers turned into insistent cries, Rokia’d blinked herself awake, looked down, and burst into tears.

Sara’d been fifteen. “I knew fuckall about babies,” she says, not looking at Lyme. “Didn’t really want anything to do with ‘em, but she was so fucking exhausted…” Sara shakes her head. “Matt’s sister wanted work, a couple guys wives’ watched kids anyway, I even gave it a shot sometimes.”

Now she looks over at Lyme, who’s wearing her blank face. “Of course Rokia wanted to use all that time for work, because fuck, baby formula is expensive, but at least when Magda wasn’t around Sal’d tell her to go sleep and pay her anyway.” Sara finishes her drink, sets the glass down. “And even back then…I knew it was bad because she wasn’t pissed at us for helping.”

Lyme’s face is still unreadable. Sara gets up, takes both glasses to the kitchen for refills. She maybe shouldn’t, she’s talking too much, but she’s going to anyway, because all of that leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

Lyme takes her glass and waits for Sara to sit before she says anything. “That’s probably why she’s trying not to ask you for anything,” Lyme says finally. “She realizes now how much you helped, she feels bad about it, so she doesn’t want to make you help now.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Sara says, looking up at the ceiling. “That’s crazy.” Not wrong, though, unfortunately.

“Yeah, well, nobody said this shit had to make sense,” Lyme says.

Sara snorts. “No fucking shit,” she says.

She goes quiet, after that. Finally Lyme chucks the remote at her. “See if there’s a game on or something,” she says. “Take your mind off it.”

There is, and it helps, sort of, and District Two wins, which is nice, and Sara’s drunk just enough that the alcohol dulls the worst sharp edges in her head. Lyme gets up to go.

“I’ll come back by in the morning,” she says.

Sara nods, stands up to walk her out. “Thanks,” she says.

“You’re welcome,” Lyme replies, catches her eye. “Go get some sleep.”

Sara heads upstairs, brushes her teeth, slides in next to Rokia. Who makes a small sound, curls tighter, but doesn’t wake up. Sara sighs, settles in, and goes to sleep.

 

When Sara wakes up, Rokia’s gone. It’s not surprising, really, since she went to bed so early, but it does startle her at first. Enough that she takes a minute to calm down and breathe before she goes downstairs, because the last thing anybody needs is for _Sara_ to be on edge.

Rokia’s sitting at the table with her datapad and a notebook, scowling ferociously down at whatever she’s working on. Sara sighs. At least she didn’t disappear down to the hangar.

She looks up as soon as Sara gets close, and her expression turns shifty, embarrassed. “Hey,” Rokia says.

“Good morning,” Sara tosses back, heads across the room to the coffeemaker. Some things are constant, and if Rokia’s awake, there’ll be coffee.

It gives Sara a minute to figure out what to do next, and Rokia too, for that matter. By the time Sara turns around, mug in hand, Rokia’s settled into what has to be fake composure. “How’re you doing?” Sara asks. “Sleep well?”

Rokia gives her a very flat look, which Sara will admit she probably deserves. “I’m alright,” she says, glancing down at her work. “I’m behind on this stuff I’m supposed to send in on new cargo designs, though.”

Sara sips at her coffee, turns to open the fridge. “So you’re gonna work on that today?”

“Yeah,” Rokia says, a little defiant.

Sara lets it go. “Okay,” she says. “I’ll poke around and see what I can entertain myself with, then.”

“Yeah,” Rokia says, looking back down, and that’s apparently the end of that conversation.

Sara eats her cereal leaning against the counter, looking out the window over Rokia’s head. It’s a weekday morning, people have shit to do, she’s not calling around begging for entertainment.

She drops her bowl in the sink when she’s done. Rokia looks up at the noise. “I’m going to the gym,” she says, deciding practically as she says it. Rokia looks a little surprised. “What?” Sara asks. “Your kid sister keeps making fun of me, I’m gonna surprise her when she gets back from nerd camp.”

“Internship,” Rokia snaps. “In Three.”

“Honey, I’m joking,” Sara says, softly. “I think it’s great she’s out there.”

Rokia looks down. “Sorry,” she mumbles, picks up a pencil and starts scribbling.

Sara heads upstairs to change, calls goodbye as she’s walking out the door. If Rokia responds, she doesn’t hear it.

 

There’s nobody in the gym when she gets there, which Sara is grateful for. She knows her way around the place by now, and if any of the Twos had come over to critique her form or something she’d’ve… Well, gotten her ass handed to her pretty damn fast, which would only make things worse. So she concentrates on doing the stuff D and Lene have shown her, and doing it right, and switches to the machines when she’s too tired to trust herself to handle the free weights properly.

And she’s just about to give up and go home when Claudius walks in, looking around—for her, apparently, because when he sees her he comes straight over.

Sara just lets the weight drop and sits where she is. “What’s up?” she calls, when he gets close enough.

“Was thinking of asking you the same thing,” he says.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, did Lyme send you down here?”

He shrugs. “Hear you’ve had a rough couple days.”

“Not me, Rokia.”

He just looks at her. “Okay,” Sara says. “Yeah, it hasn’t been great, but I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he says. “Selene wants to go shoot things, if you’re interested.”

“Excellent,” Sara says. “I’ll just go change.”

 

She just wants to get in and changed and out, but she sticks her head into the kitchen and Rokia isn’t there, so she calls down the basement stairs.

“Yeah?” Rokia calls back, preoccupied.

“I’m going out with Selene,” Sara calls.

“Okay,” she gets back, and that’s that.

 

Claudius is refreshingly unconcerned with riding behind her on the bike. That’s the thing about the Two Victors: you’d expect them to be all hypermasculine and tough, and they are, kind of, but when Sara’d pointed it out about the bike, D had just shrugged and said that by the time you’d killed people on live TV you quit worrying so much about bullshit posturing. Which is fair enough.

Selene’s waiting outside, grinning, when they pull up. The rifles are on her bike, since she’s solo, and they don’t bother dismounting, just follow Selene out of town and up into the hills a ways.

There’s targets set up still from last time they were out here, in a clearing a short walk from the road, and Selene has a gadget she borrowed (or “borrowed” more likely) from the Peacekeepers that shoots up moving targets, because otherwise she gets bored bullseyeing everything.

And yeah, it’s probably scheduled for Sara’s benefit, but Selene at least always enjoys coming out here, and Claudius certainly doesn’t _mind_ , and they eat slightly squashed sandwiches and get into their usual friendly competitions and tease each other back and forth and the whole thing devolves, as usual, into permutations of sparring: Sara against Lene, D against Lene, D against both of the girls when Sara gets tired of losing.

And it’s so nice, just for an afternoon, not to have to _calculate_ everything. Not having to worry about how they’ll react and what’s the meaning behind every tiny gesture and facial expression, checking for warning signs and red flags, and Sara almost feels guilty for the sheer relief of it.

It’s Selene, surprisingly enough, who calls time, says she promised to be home for dinner, so they collect their things and head back.

Sara drops Claudius at his house and kills the engine. “Thanks,” she says, and he shrugs.

“Everybody needs a break sometimes,” he says. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sara takes a deep breath and heads for home.

 

She hears voices while she’s still in the garage. “I _hate_ this,” Rokia practically yells, her voice tight. “I keep— it’s _fine_ , okay, just let me do my job and quit making me have feelings about things.”

Sara doesn’t hear Lyme’s response, but she doesn’t need to. She doesn’t need to be here right now. So she walks up to the apple orchard and climbs a tree, watches as the sun starts to set, tries not to worry and mostly fails, until finally she figures she’d better go home before Rokia finds her bike in the garage and starts wondering where she is.

This time she doesn’t hear anything, so she pushes open the door. Rokia’s sitting on the couch, icing her knee again, and looking slightly less irritated than she sounded earlier.

“Hey,” Sara says, heading over.

Rokia looks up and sighs. “Hi,” she says, shifts over a little. “Sit?”

Sara does, and Rokia leans against her. “Lyme’s here,” Rokia says. “Making food.” That curls derisively in a way Sara doesn’t like, particularly since it’s not directed at anyone but Rokia herself.

“Okay,” Sara settles for.

Rokia sighs again. “I’m sorry,” she says, “for…y’know. Being shitty this morning.”

“It’s okay,” Sara says, “I get it.”

“Yeah, but it’s still shit,” Rokia says. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Rokia,” Sara starts, stops. “There’s no place I’d rather be. Honest.”

It’s true. For all the frustration and everything else, she’d still rather be here than back in Six, or wherever else she might’ve ended up.

Rokia doesn’t say anything, reaches down to adjust the ice bag on her knee.

“How’s that doing?” Sara asks, figuring it’s a safer bet than asking how anything _else_ is going.

Rokia laughs, sharp. “It’d be doing better if I didn’t keep forgetting and trying to kick with it,” she says. “Or if I could go a day without needing Lyme to knock my damn brain into place.”

Sara smiles, because even though that’s self-deprecating and exasperated, it’s a lot less sharp than the rest of it has been. “Well, you know, any time you want me to kiss it better,” she jokes.

Rokia doesn’t respond, not right away. Then she snuggles closer. “I should remember you’re nicer than Lyme,” she says, as Lyme comes out of the kitchen carrying plates.

“I heard that,” Lyme says. “And here I’m bringing you dinner and everything.”

Rokia just grins back, and Lyme rolls her eyes before going back for her own.

 

Lyme leaves after they eat. Rokia seems content to stay on the couch with Sara, even if she does bring her notebooks over. Sara reads, glancing down occasionally—okay, more than occasionally, and it’s a good thing the plot of her book isn’t complicated, but whatever. Rokia’s still wound tighter than usual, but the scowl she’s got aimed at the pages in her lap is familiar, concentration more than anything that’d be a problem.

When Sara starts getting tired she stretches, jostling Rokia a little more than she’d really have to. Rokia looks up, glances at the clock, looks back at her work, and then sighs and starts collecting her things.

Sara helps her up, because Rokia really is sore, even if she won’t quite admit it. And for once Rokia takes the sleeping pills herself, tosses one back with water and then glares at Sara like she’s daring her to say anything. Sara’s not about to open her mouth, especially when Rokia crawls into bed, shifts close against Sara until their foreheads touch. Sara reaches for her, and Rokia pulls closer, her nose pressed against Sara’s throat, their legs tangled, Sara’s arms holding her tight. Rokia’s breath tickles against Sara’s skin, and something in Sara’s chest settles. She takes a deep breath, blows it out, traces circles on Rokia’s back with her palm, until Rokia sighs and rolls away.

“I love you,” Rokia whispers, catching Sara’s eye right at the end and then glancing away.

“I love you too, babygirl,” Sara says. “Goodnight.”

Rokia smiles. “G’night,” she says, drowsy already. It doesn’t take her long to fall asleep after that.

It takes Sara longer. She watches Rokia’s chest expand with each breath, the way her face smooths out and makes her look younger.

Sara’s belonged here for long enough she can hardly remember how long it’s been. Belonged wherever Rokia is, because for all that she’s never really wanted to settle down, this is what she means by home.

And it’s been a struggle longer than Sara wants to count, too. It’s not some fluffy romantic bullshit, the kind you see on TV where the girls find each other and that’s the end, flowers and rainbows forever. But they’re both fighters: stubborn and headstrong and unrelenting, and they know how to get up and keep moving. And just ask—Matt or Lyme or Claudius or anybody: one of them on their own is bad enough, but the two of them together—well. Hell or high water is nothing. Best not get in their way.


End file.
